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V 

GRANDPA’S HOUSE. 


BY 



NEW YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON, 

459 Broome Street. 

1868. 

N‘. )> 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
Hurd and Houghton, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 

New York. 



RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 

stereotyped and printed by 

H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 


TO 

MY DEAR LITTLE NAME-CHILD, 

HELEN, 


I DEDICATE THIS STORY. 













































































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GRANDPA’S HOUSE. 


CHAPTER I. 

Half a dozen heads close together in 
the school-room, and twice half a dozen 
ears so busy in listening, that Miss Owens 
touched her little bell twice, before their 
owners could remember that it was time 
to turn about and study the afternoon 
spelling-lesson. Then there was a scat- 
tering to the different desks, and little 
Katy Stuart opened her spelling-book, 
and sat staring right over it at Fanny 
Lawrence, who was rocking back and 
forth, and slapping herself to the tune 
of “ Twice one are two, twice two are 
four,” etc. She certainly could ’nt be 
looking at her so because she was a 
stranger, for Katy and Fanny had lived 
side by side all their lives through, — not 


2 


grandpa’s house. 


long lives to be sure, for Katy was only a 
little over four. 

“ Quarter past four exactly,” Grandpa 
had taught her to say, just before she be- 
gan school ; and when Miss Owens, after 
writing her name that first day, had said, 
“ How old are you, Katy ? ” she had an- 
swered briskly, “ Quarter past four de - 
zactly,” and opened her brown eyes very 
wide when the big girls and boys began 
to laugh. 

Fanny was almost, six, and so of course 
always said just the right thing, and Katy, 
who lisped a little and hadn ’t quite learned 
all the big people’s words, respected her 
highly, and was sure that she knew more 
than any other little girl in Windsor. 

Katy sat, as T have told you, looking 
straight at Fanny ; and little Peter Per- 
kins, who sat near Fanny and could see 
Katy’s eyes all the time, was certain at 
last that she was staring at him, and after 
smiling once or twice and getting no 
return, made up his ‘ mind she meant 
to insult him, and instantly held up his 
hand. 


grandpa’s house. 


3 


“What is it, Peter?” said Miss Owens. 

“ Please to make Katy Stuart stop a- 
looking at me,” said Peter. “ She ’s been 
a-doing it ever since school was in.” 

“ It ’s no such a thing,” answered Katy, 
astonished ; “ I did n’t look at him once. 
I would n’t want to. I was n’t thinking 
about him.” 

“ Oh what a great lie,” began Peter, but 
Miss Owens stopped him. 

“Look on your book, Peter, and you 
will not be troubled by anybody’s look- 
ing at you, and never say ‘lie’ to any 
one. What were you looking at, Katy ? ” 

Katy turned very red and said nothing, 
and Miss Owen, after waiting a moment 
smiled a little and turned again to the 
copy-books. Katy’s eyes still left her les- 
son every now and then, resting on Fanny 
with the same doubtful look, and even 
in her class she turned her head once or 
twice toward her. Peter Perkins was 
waiting by the door, when the children 
went out to recess. 

“ I ’ll punch you, Katy Stuart ! ” said he, 
giving her a little push. 


4 


grandpa’s house. 


“ Punch a girl!” said Johnny Adams. 
“ Ain’ t you brave, though ? I ’ll punch 
you if you don’t look out.” 

u Nobody must n’t punch anybody,” said 
Katy. “ I was n’t looking at you, Peter ; I 
was looking at Fanny, ’cause she said ” — 
“ Said what ? ” began Peter, interested, 
but Johnny Adams pulled him away. 

“ Come along, Redhead ! ” said he ; “I ’m 
going to win your best alley of you now, 
so you keep away from them girls ; ” and 
Peter, much against his will, was dragged 
over to the smooth ground in front of 
the school-house. 

The square, little, unpainted building 
stood at the top of a low hill from which 
the woods had been partly cleared. At 
the back it sloped down to a brook which 
ran by its foot, where at noontime in hot 
days the girls waded, and the boys fished 
for shiners with crooked pins. 

Behind an old log, the little girls played 
baby-house, with leaves for plates, and 
acorn cups to drink from ; and sometimes 
Miss Owens, came down to sit with them, 
and told them stories of the flow T ers, and 


grandpa’s house. 


5 


birds, and bugs about them. Her favor- 
ite place, though, was under an old oak, 
where the grass was always soft and green : 
here the brook widened into a deep pool, 
the dwelling-place of a wonderful trout, 
never once seen, but always talked about 
by the older boys ; and here one of them 
had made a little seat for the teacher, 
where she brought her luncheon and 
books, and on one ever-to-be-rememberod 
day, had heard the lessons. 

Fanny looked as she ran, to see if Miss 
Owens were in her usual place, quite away 
from any chance of hearing them, and 
said, “ Oh goody ! ” as she saw her sitting 
there. 

“Now see what I’ve got!” said she, 
when they were all behind the log, and 
from her pocket Fanny took out a little 
handkerchief, rolled into a tight ball, 
which, on being opened, showed six raisins 
and two or three pieces of dried apple. 

“ There ’s just one raisin apiece,” said 
she, “ and I ’ll cut the apple so ’s we can 
all have some o’ that.” 

“ Where ’d you get it ? ” said Katy, 


6 


GRANDPAS HOUSE. 


putting her hands behind her, as Fanny 
held out her raisin. 

“ Down to the store, you know well 
enough,” said Fanny impatiently. “ I wish 
I had n’t told you any thing about it this 
morning ; here, take it.” 

“I sha’n’t,” said Katy; “you stole it.” 

“ I did n’t ,” said Fanny ; “ I never stole 
a thing ; I only took it, ’cause it was on 
the counter, and they ’d a-swept it right 
onto the floor. Clara Perry always takes 
something, and we ’re all a-going to when 
they drop any thing.” 

“Mother says it’s stealing to take things 
that don’t belong to you,” said Katy. 

“ So it is,” said Fanny. “ I would n’t 
steal for any thing; we only pick up things 
when we go to the store, ’cause they’d 
sweep ’em out if we did n’t. Ain’t you a 
goose to call that stealing ? ” 

Katy looked doubtful. 

“ Then it would n’t be wicked to eat the 
raisin, would it ? ” said she. 

“ Why, no, you silly,” all the children 
answered together, and Katy took her 
piece of apple and the raisin, and ate 
them immediately. 


grandpa’s house. 7 

" I guess I ’ll ask mamma when I go 
home,” said she. 

All the little girls shouted. 

" Why, Katy Stuart ! you said you was 
going to have it for a secret with all of us. 
Don’t you know the big girls have secrets 
all the time, so ’s they can whisper, and we 
was going to too. You ’ll be real mean if 
you tell.” 

"Well,” said Katy, after a moment, 
" then I won’t,” and just then the recess- 
bell rang, and the last hour of school 
began. 

Walking home from school that after- 
noon, Katy thought the matter over again, 
and how strange it would seem to have a 
secret from mamma to whom she always 
ran and told every thing, just so soon as 
she got into the house. 

" It ’s nice to have secrets, I do s’pose, 
’cause Fanny says so,” said Katy to her- 
self, "but it don’t feel good;” and she 
walked into the gate and toward the 
front door with a little troubled feeling. 
Voices came from the parlor, and she 
opened the door just the least crack, so 


8 


grandpa’s house. 


that all that could be seen of her was the 
tip of her nose and one brown eye. 

“ Dacious me ! ” said Katy, “ there ’s a 
new boy ; where did he come from ? ” and 
she shut the door and ran into the kitchen. 

"Katy!” called mamma, and Katy 
walked into the parlor with her head down, 
and taking her thumb from her mouth 
with a little jerk, as she remembered she 
had promised never to suck it again, if 
only she could think in time. 

" Who do you guess this is ? ” said mam- 
ma, putting one arm around her, and the 
other around a lady sitting beside her. 
" Somebody you love.” 

" I dess not,” said Katy, puzzled. " I 
never saw her.” 

"You’ve seen her picture and kissed it 
too,” said mamma. 

" ’T is n’t my Aunt Katy, is it ? ” asked 
Katy. 

" To be sure it is,” said the lady, sud- 
denly taking her right into her lap, and 
kissing her a dozen times ; " your very 
Aunt Katy, that has n’t hugged you once 
since you were a teenty baby ; and here ’s 


grandpa’s house. 9 

Cousin Rob/’ and Aunt Katy drew the little 
boy toward her. 

Katy looked at him seriously, to find 
out just what he was like, and then slid- 
ing down to the floor, put her arms around 
his neck and kissed him. 

“ I like you, Cousin Rob,” she said ; 
“ come and see my chickens,” and taking 
hold of hands, the two children went out. 

“ Where did you come from, Rob ? ” 
asked Katy, as they walked along toward 
the barn. 

“ Out West,” said Rob. 

" Where ’s that ? ” said Katy. 

Rob looked confused. 

"I don’t know,” he answered ; "it’s ever 
so far off, and we lived in St. Paul, and 
had to come in a steamboat, and then two 
or three days in the cars, and I’m glad 
we ’re here.” 

“ So ’m I,” said Katy. “ Do you want to 
go to school with me to-morrow ? It ’s Fri- 
day, and that ’s the last day there is school 
till Monday.” 

"I do’ know,” said Rob, too intent on 
the chickens he saw around a coop, to 


10 


grandpa’s house. 


think much about school. " Oh, ain’t they 
pretty ? I want one in my hand.” 

" Old Speckle wont let you,” said Katy, 
too late for Rob though, who, pouncing 
on one of the wee puff-balls, received a 
peck from Mrs. Speckle, that drew blood 
in a moment. 

" Oh ! ” said Katy, beginning to cry, 
" now you ’re hurted and all a-bleeding. 
Oh suz me ! ” 

" Ho ! ” said Rob, at first inclined to cry, 
but putting a brave face on it ; "I don’t 
care ; it did n’t hurt much. Don’t you cry. 
I should think you was the one that was 
hurted and not me.” 

"I’ve got a rag in my pocket,” said 
Katy, winking away a tear. "Mamma 
makes me take one all the time, ’cause I 
keep cutting my finger on Fanny’s new 
knife, and I ’ll do it up for you.” 

So Katy did up the finger in a yard or 
two of rag, till it looked most as big as a 
man’s finger she said ; and then the two 
children rambled off through the orchard, 
where they picked up the first harvest 
apple of the season, and each took bites 


grandpa’s house. 


11 


till it was all gone ; and then down to the 
meadow to look at Dolly the cow, where 
they found the very last wild strawberry 
for that year, and spent so much time 
looking for another, that the tea-bell rang 
before they were half through with what 
they had meant to do. Bed-time came too 
soon, though Katy had been allowed to sit 
up an hour later in honor of Bob’s com- 
ing, and the children talked back and 
forth, till mamma said they must n’t speak 
one word more till next morning. 

“ I don’t believe I ’ll ever go to sleep, 
mamma,” said Katy ; but before she knew, 
Bob’s blue eyes and her brown ones were 
shut tight, and did n’t open again till the 
first bell rang. 

“ Fix luncheon for two, mamma,” said 
Katy, following her mother into the store- 
room after breakfast. “I dess Bob is 
going with me to school.” 

“I c dess ’ he is,” said Aunt Katy, coming 
after. “ He ’ll stay here so long that he 
might better go with you every day.” 

Katy held her head very high as she 
walked through the gate and down the 


12 


grandpa’s house. 


road with Rob. Fanny Lawrence had 
made such a fuss over her Cousin Anne 
from Claremont, and would hardly speak 
to any body while she stayed, and now she, 
Katy Stuart, was really going to school 
with a cousin, not only from way out West, 
but a boy too, so that both the girls’ and 
boys’ side of the school-room would keep 
looking at him all the time. 

Peter Perkins was making a sand-pie in 
the road when they came up, and seemed 
quite struck with Katy’s companion. Rob 
was n’t afraid of any body, and before the 
bell rang knew the names of all the boys 
and more than half the girls. When Miss 
Owens asked his name he said, "Robert 
Henry Gray,” so loud that Katy felt quite 
embarrassed, but soon got over it ; for Rob 
went right into the spelling-class, without 
having studied his lesson at all, and went 
above Peter Perkins, who was so busy 
looking at him that he spelled Baker, first, 
B-a, ba, k-o-r, ker, and then, B-a, ba, k-zj-r ; 
and then, as they were only allowed to 
try twice on one word, went below with 
a very sulky face, as Rob quite shouted 
B-a, ba, k-E-r ker, Baker. 


grandpa’s house. 


13 


At recess Johnny Adams took posses- 
sion of him, and even at noontime, Katy 
could only show him off while he ate his 
luncheon from the basket, which she held 
tight in order to keep him with her. 

“ Ain’t Katy Stuart proud ? ” said Clara 
Perry, so loudly that Katy heard her, but 
pretended not to, and ran off to where she 
could see Rob slinging stones with Johnny 
Adams. Even going home, Katy could n’t 
have him all to herself, for the same John- 
ny walked almost to the gate with him ; 
while Peter Perkins followed at a respect- 
ful distance behind, making now and then 
a remark which Johnny answered or not, 
just as he felt inclined. Saturday too, 
Johnny came for him, and poor Katy 
played sadly with her dolls, and would n’t 
go to see any of the little girls, because 
she was afraid he might come home while 
she was away. 

“ I did n’t see you any most all day,” 
said she, as they went up to bed together. 

u Well, you will to-morrow,” said Rob, 
“ ’cause it ’s Sunday. If you was a boy 
now, we ’d be together all the time.” 


14 


grandpa’s house. 


"Well, I ain’t,” said Katy, "and I’m 
glad of it, ’cause boys can’t ever keep 
still.” 

" Oh, they can, too,” began Rob, but 
mamma cut the talk short by coming up 
to read a little to Katy as she sometimes 
did at bed- time. 

Sunday morning the rain came pouring 
down. On such days, when Katy’s father 
was at home, they always had a little 
service of their own in the parlor, for the 
village church was some distance from 
them, and Katy too was such a little girl 
that she only went to Sunday-school 
now and then ; but while he was away, 
" fighting for his dear country,” Katy said, 
mamma read or told her Bible stories, and 
taught her to sing little hymns, or walked 
and talked with her, in the beautiful grove 
at the back of the house. This morning 
mamma had a new book in her hand, and 
Katy looked curiously at it, as she climbed 
into her lap after breakfast. 

" What ’s its name, mamma ? ” she said, 
trying to read the gilded letters. 

" ‘ Stories from the Lips of the Teacher,”’ 


grandpa's house. 


15 


said mamma. " Don’t you remember, that 
last spring when we were in New York, I 
took you to Sunday-school the first time 
you had ever been to one, and you heard 
the minister, who is always there with the 
children, himself tell a story to them ? ” 

" Yes, I do,” said Katy ; "it was a beau- 
tiful story. Did he make these ? ” 

"Yes,” said mamma, " and I’m going to 
read you one ; only one though, for I 
must write a long letter to dear papa to- 
day.” 

So mamma opened the book, and read 
the story of Dives and Lazarus, and Rob 
and Katy sat on their little stools and 
listened. Katy was very still when it 
ended, for though she could not under- 
stand every one of the long words, still 
she knew almost all that had been read. 
Mamma went away, shutting the door be- 
hind her, and Rob got up and went to the 
window. 

" Let ’s play church,” said he. " I used 
to play church at home, and once papa 
was the minister and preached me a beau- 
tiful sermon his own self.” 


16 


grandpa’s house. 


“ Well,” said Katy ; “you fix the things 
and I ’ll help you.” 

So Rob drew the great arm-chair near 
the window for a pulpit, and then Katy 
and he put all the other chairs into two 
rows for pews. 

“ You ’ll have to be the singing people, 
and the listening people too,” he said. “ I 
can sing, ’cause our minister does always ; 
real loud too.” 

Rob sat down in the big chair and pre- 
tended to wait for all the people to get in, 
and Katy sat up very straight in hers, and 
watched to see what he meant to do. 
Pretty soon Rob stood up and said, — 

“ Let us all sing the ninety-tenth hymn, 
6 Shining Shore.’ ” 

“ I don’t know but one verse of that,” 
said Katy. 

“ Hush ! ” said Rob ; “ now I ’ve got to 
begin again, ’cause people don’t ever talk 
in church. You can sing the same verse 
twice, and that’ll do just as well. Now, 
let us all sing the ninety-tenth hymn, 
‘ Shining Shore.’ ” 

Katy stood up in her chair, and Rob in 


grandpa’s house. 


17 


his, and both sang loud as they could, 
while Aunt Katy in the next room, opened 
the door just a little, so as to hear them 
more plainly. They said “ Our Father,” 
together, and they sang "Jesus, tender 
shepherd, hear me,” and then Rob began 
his sermon. 

66 Our Father up in heaven loves every 
body, and wants every body to be good 
all the time, and He ’s sorry if we ain’t 
good, and so we must n’t tell lies or be 
cross ever ; and my father says that when 
we try to be good as we can be all the 
time, we ’re happy all the time, even if it 
does hurt some not to do every thing 
we ’re a mind to, and that ’s all I can 
think of to preach this time : Amen.” 

" Is church out ? ” said Katy. 

" Yes, ’cause I don’t think of any thing 
more,” said Rob. " Now you must go out 
of the room, ’cause the people don’t ever 
stay in the church after the minister is 
through.” 

Katy walked out, and just then mamma 
called her, and she went away, without talk- 
ing to Rob of the raisins and dried apple, 
2 


18 


grandpa’s house. 


as she had been tempted to. Mamma had 
finished her letter and was ready to read 
again ; and then came dinner, and after 
dinner a little walk, as the rain was over, 
and in some way or other the day went 
by ; and Katy, though thinking very 
often whether or not Fanny could be 
right, had as yet said nothing, but went 
to bed still thinking. 


CHAPTER II. 


Monday morning came, and Rob went 
to school with Katy that day, and through 
all the week ; but as he went away with 
the boys at recess, she gradually gave up 
watching him, and played as usual with 
the little girls. 

Clara Perry’s father mended watches, 
and one day Clara brought three or four 
watch crystals, for plates in the baby- 
house. 

u I know what ’ll look pretty in ’em,” 
said Fanny Lawrence, and next morning 
when she came to school, she brought half 
a dozen cranberries. 

“ Where ’d you get ’em ? ” asked Katy. 

“ Down to the store,” said Fanny. “ I 
went to get sugar for mother, and these 
was right on the floor, and I picked ’em 
up.” 

They were very pretty on the little 


20 


grandpa’s house. 


glass dishes, and Katy in playing with 
them half forgot her doubts. 

Next morning as they started for school 
her mother said : “ Stop at the store, dear, 
coming home, and ask Mr. Lane for a 
dozen fresh eggs. I want to make sponge- 
cake, and we have n’t enough. You can 
bring them in your luncheon basket.” 

Katy walked along that afternoon after 
school, thinking. 

“All the girls make fun o’ me, ’cause I 
never took any thing,” said she to herself. 
“ I ’ll take a cranberry, maybe, so ’s just to 
say I did, if there ’s only one on the floor,” 
and as she went in at the store door, she 
looked about to see if there were one 
where she could pick it up. Mr. Lane 
was very busy unpacking something, and 
as he took the basket, said, “Wait a min- 
ute,” and went again to the back of the 
store. Katy looked about her : not a 
thing on the floor or the counter, not 
even a bean. Yes — one thing too. Over 
in a corner, half behind a barrel, lay a lit- 
tle onion, and Katy walked toward it, and 
picking it up slipped it into her pocket. 


grandpa’s house. 


21 


“ There,” said she to herself, “ they 
can’t ever laugh at me again ; ” and she 
went forward and took the basket Mr. 
Lane was holding out, and then went 
out to Rob, who was standing on the 
steps talking to a boy who had a new 
top. 

Now that the first feeling of gladness 
at really having picked up something was 
over, Katy felt very strangely. What was 
she to do with this little onion ? She 
wanted to throw it away, but was afraid 
Rob would see her, and ask where she 
got it. 

“ The girls ’ll make just as much fun 
of me as ever,” she thought, “ for they ’ll 
say I did n’t get any thing we could eat or 
play with, either. What if Rob should 
put his hand into my pocket and find it ! 
I’ve got to put it somewhere else. Oh, 
suz me ! what ’ll I do ? ” 

Katy watched her chance, and once 
when Rob ran to the side of the road, 
pulled it out and slipped it into the bosom 
of her frock. There it made a little bulge, 
and she pushed it further down where it 


22 


grandpa’s house. 


did not show so much, and walked on. If 
mamma had not been so busy, she would 
have noticed the troubled little face ; as 
it was, she hardly saw her till just before 
tea, and then took her into her lap a 
moment. 

“ Why, dear child,” said she, “ how you 
smell of onions ! ” 

“ Do I, mamma ? ” said Katy, turning 
very red, and looking utterly miserable. 

“ What is the matter ? ” said mamma ; 
and Katy first said, “Nothing, mamma,” 
and then bursting into tears, hid her face. 
Mamma put her arms about her, and as 
she did so, felt the hard lump in her 
frock. 

“ What is that ? ” she said, and then 
drew it out. “ An onion ! Why, Katy ! 
what did you put an onion in your bosom 
for ? Where did you get it ? ” 

“ I stole it ! ” said Katy, too unhappy to 
keep it to herself another moment. “ I 
stole it, so ’s to have a secret to whisper 
about and never tell you, so ’t the girls 
need n’t laugh at me any more.” 

Little by little Mrs. Stuart drew the 


grandpa’s house. 


23 


whole story from her, and then sat silent 
some time thinking what it was best to 
do. 

“ I did think that you must take the 
onion back to Mr. Lane yourself, Katy, 
and tell him you took it,” she began, but 
Katy almost screamed : “ I could n’t ! Oh, I 
could n’t, mamma ! ” and Mrs. Stuart sat 
silent again. 

“Was it surely, truly stealing, mamma?” 
said Katy at last. 

“ It surely was,” said mamma. “I never 
thought my little daughter could take 
any thing that was not her own.” 

“ I never shall again,” said Katy, crying 
afresh ; “ I don’t want to : it feels dread- 
ful to steal.” 

Aunt Katy came in just then, and 
would have asked what the matter was, if 
mamma had not silenced her with a look, 
as she put Katy down, and began to brush 
her hair for tea. Katy could not eat, and 
Rob, finding there was some trouble, lost 
his appetite too, and sat looking almost 
as sad as Katy. Mamma put on her hat 
after the meal was over, and took Katy’s 
hand. 


24 


grandpa’s house. 


"We are going down to Mr. Lane’s, little 
daughter,” she said. "If you had been 
older, I should have made you go alone, 
so that you might always remember the 
dreadful shame you would feel, in telling 
any one you had stolen from them. Be- 
cause you are such a little girl, I shall tell 
Mr. Lane myself, and I don’t think you 
will ever let mamma have so sad a thing 
to do again.” 

Katy held her mother’s hand tight as 
they went into the store, but on the way 
down she had made up her mind that no- 
body but herself should have to tell of 
her trouble. Mr. Lane was all alone, and 
Katy looked right into his face, as she 
said, " I stole an onion from you this 
afternoon, Mr. Lane, and I ’ve come to 
bring it back.” 

Mr. Lane was too much astonished to 
say any thing for a minute, and then he 
laughed till Katy began to cry again. 

"If you was bent on stealing,” said he, 
" you might have taken something better ; 
but what did such a mite as you be, want 
to steal for, anyway ? ” 


grandpa’s house. 


25 


To answer this required a long story, 
that Katy could n’t bear to tell, and as 
somebody came in just then, Mr. Lane 
did not ask again. 

“ I ’m glad the onion ’s back there,” said 
Katy, as they went out, “ but what will 
Fanny say when she knows I told you, 
mamma ? ” 

“Fanny has been a very foolish little 
girl,” answered her mother, “and as her 
mother and I are old friends, I will tell 
her what has been going on in the school, 
so that Fanny may find that ‘ taking ’ is 
exactly the same as stealing, — one just 
as wrong as the other.” 

Katy hardly spoke to Rob . as they 
walked to school the next morning, for 
her head was full of what Fanny might 
say to her for having told ; but as Peter 
Perkins came up shortly after they had 
started, Rob was too busy talking with 
him, to think much about Katy’s silence. 

Fanny hardly looked at her> but her 
eyes were red as if she had been crying 
very hard. Clara Perry made a face at 
her, and Sarah Allen would n’t tell her 


26 


grandpa’s house. 


where the spelling-lesson was, and alto- 
gether Katy was very miserable. Miss 
Owens saw the cloud on the faces of the 
little girls, who almost always wanted so 
much to laugh and play, that they could 
hardly sit still till recess time, and deter- 
mined to find out the trouble if she 
could. 

When the little bell rang for recess, 
Katy turned as usual to go out with Fan- 
ny, but Clara Perry had her arm around 
her, and was walking away, and as Katy 
came up to her, Sarah Allen said, — 

“You’re a mean tell-tale, Katy Stuart, 
and Fanny don’t like you any more.” 

“ I ’m no such a thing,” said Katy, wink- 
ing hard to keep from crying ; “ I only 
told mamma, because I ’d stole something 
my own self. I was n’t going to tell of 
Fanny at all.” 

“Well, you did,” said Sarah Allen, “and 
now her mother says she can’t have her 
birthday party next week. We ’re most 
a mind not ever to speak to you again.” 

Katy cried now in good earnest, and 
Miss Owens, on her way down to the 
brook, turned back quickly. 


grandpa’s house. 


27 


“ What is the matter, little girls ? ” she 
said, sitting down on the flat rock, between 
the school-house and the brook. “ Tell 
me about it, and we will see if I can help 
it.” Clara Perry turned and ran off, and 
Sarah Allen looked at Miss Owens and 
then at Fanny, and finally began to cry, 
herself. 

“ This is very strange,” said Miss Owens, 
“ and something must be very wrong to 
make you all feel so. Have you been 
quarreling ? ” 

“ No, ma’am,” answered Fanny suddenly; 
“ we ’ve been stealing.” 

“ Stealing ! ” repeated Miss Owens, and 
then sat quite still in astonishment for a 
minute. “ What did you steal ? ” 

“ I stole an onion,” said Katy, “ and I 
had to take it back, and I did n’t keep our 
secret, and so Fanny is mad with me.” 

“I ain’t now,” said Fanny, “not as 
much as I was, anyway. I stole raisins, 
and dried apples, and cranberries, only I 
did n’t think it was truly stealing, and we 
all made fun of Katy ’cause she would n’t ; 
so she stole an onion, and then she told 


28 


grandpa’s house. 


her mother, and her mother came and 
told my mother, and my mother says I 
can’t have any birthday party ’cause I 
might a-known better.” 

“ I do think you might,” said Miss 
Owens. “ How could you think it was 
no harm to take what was not your 
own ? ” 

“ Robert Carter did it first,” said Fanny. 
“He gave me a prune one day, that he’d 
got off the store-floor, and said he always 
picked up things, and that it was n’t any 
harm at all ; and so I told Clara Perry, and 
we all did it.” 

There was no more time to talk now, 
for recess was over, and all walked back 
toward the school-house, Miss Owens think- 
ing what it was best to say. 

Peter Perkins, who had seen there was 
some difficulty, and was very anxious to 
find out just what it could be, had run 
down the hill before them, and hidden 
behind a tree, where he had heard every 
word, and now as all walked away from 
the flat rock, Katy and Fanny with their 
arms around each other, Peter rushed up 


grandpa’s house. 29 

the hill, and into the midst of all the 
boys. 

“ Holloa ! ” shouted Johnny Adams, 
“ look at Redhead’s eyes ! they ’re big as 
saucers.” 

“I guess your’n would be too,” said 
Peter, all out of breath. “ Every one o’ 
them little girls has been a-stealing; Katy 
Stuart and all ! ” 

“No such a thing ! ” shouted Rob. “ My 
Cousin Katy never stole a thing. I ’ll lick 
you, Peter Perkins.” 

“ Oh you will, will you ? ” said Peter, 
pushing up his jacket-sleeves, and begin- 
ning to dance round in a circle ; “ come 
on then ! ” 

Rob was six and Peter almost nine, but 
Rob did n’t hesitate a moment. Before 
Peter had made up his mind where to 
hit, Rob had made a rush, head foremost, 
hitting him in the stomach and quite 
doubling him up, following up the attack 
by such a shower of cuffs and kicks from 
his small hands and feet, that Peter lost 
his self-possession, and ran howling to the 
school-room. 


30 


grandpa’s house. 


“ What does all this mean ? ” said Miss 
Owens severely, as Rob with flashing eyes 
and flushed face came rushing after him, 
followed by the other boys. “ Go into the 
school-room at once, and take your places, 
and Rob and Peter, stay in at noon-time, 
till you have told me what you mean.” 

“ I ’ll tell you now,” said Rob. “ He 
called my Cousin Katy a thief, and there 
sha’n’t anybody do that.” 

Katy put her head down on the desk, 
and cried harder than ever, as Peter 
said, — 

“ She is a thief anyhow.” 

“ How do you know she is ? ” said Miss 
Owens. 

“ ’Cause I heard her say so,” answered 
Peter. 

“ When ? ” asked Miss Owens. 

“Just now,” said Peter, hanging his 
head ; “ I was close by and heard her say 
it.” 

“So you listened,” said Miss Owens, 
“ and then ran and told a tale. You 
are just as much a thief, then, as Katy 
or Fanny, for you stole what was only 


grandpa’s house. 


31 


meant for me to hear. Fanny and Katy 
and Sarah are very little girls, who have 
taken what was not their own, for the first 
time in their lives, and who hardly knew 
how wrong they were doing, till it was all 
over.” 

“ I would n’t a-hit him, if I ’d a-thought 
it was true” said Rob, looking reproach- 
fully at Katy, and then breaking into cry- 
ing himself. 

There was such a chorus of sobs in the 
school-room, that even the biggest boys 
looked almost ready to cry. 

“ Now, children, hush,” said Miss Owens, 
“ and dry your eyes. If this trouble 
teaches you always to be honest and true, 
you need never be sorry that we know it. 
It is something that none of us need ever 
speak of again. Don’t be so hasty another 
time, little Rob; and Peter, do you remem- 
ber, that listening and tale-bearing are 
such mean things to do, that a boy wdio 
is guilty of them, will have to work very 
hard for a long, long time before he can 
earn the respect of those about him.” 

Miss Owens opened the Reader, and 


32 


grandpa’s house. 


called up the first class, and school went 
on as usual. At noon- time all went down 
to the log, and Fanny took every cran- 
berry and threw it into the brook. 

u I ’m never going to take any thing 
from anybody ever again,” said she. 

Clara Perry laughed, but Katy, who 
knew just how she felt, put her arm 
around her, and they walked along the 
brook-side. 

Sitting on a stone, Katy told all about 
the onion, and Fanny hugged her hard, as 
she said : “ I s’pose we shall do some more 
bad things sometime, but we won’t ever 
steal any more, will we, Katy ? ” to which 
Katy said, “ I dess we never will.” 

Going home that night, Katy opened 
her heart to Rob, who had at first thought 
of going the other side of the road, and 
having nothing to do with her, but who 
softened as he heard the whole story, and 
hugged her close, as they went in at the 
gate. 

Next day the watch crystals were all 
gone, and though Clara Perry never said a 
word about it, I think she had made up 


GRANDPAS HOUSE. 


33 


her mind in the same way as Katy and 
Fanny, and so carried every one back to 
her father’s shop. 

Peter Perkins sulked for a day or two, 
but came out of it, on finally being pre- 
sented with a stick of molasses-candy by 
Rob, and they became better friends than 
they had ever been before. The pound- 
ing, or the scolding, or something had 
done .him good, for it is certain his man- 
ners mended from that very day. 

Katy felt for some time as though 
everybody were looking at her and say- 
ing “ onion ; ” but in time the feeling died 
away, and she remembered her trouble 
only as something which would keep her 
from ever wanting to try the same ex- 
periment again. 


CHAPTER III. 


All this time, little people, you may 
be wondering exactly who everybody 
is, and may want to know more about 
Katy Stuart, than just that she is Katy 
Stuart. 

So I will begin ever so far back, at her 
grandfather and grandmother, and by and 
by we shall get down to Katy herself, 
whom it would never do to tell about 
first, when therq are people so much older 
to be thought of. 

Grandpa and grandma had lived in this 
very house almost more years than Katy 
was able to count. Long ago, one heard 
the voices of many children through the 
great rooms and under the spreading 
trees, but one after another, their places 
came to be in the old church-yard under 
the sighing pine-trees, and you heard their 


grandpa’s house. 35 

names only as some one read them from 
the white grave-stones. 

Aunt Katy had gone far out West, 
when she married, and when Katy’s 
mother, the very last of them all, came 
to marry, grandpa and grandma begged 
that she too might not go away from 
them for always. So when Katy was a 
wee, wee baby, her parents left the great 
city where she had been born, and settled 
down in the almost empty house. And 
here papa left his little family, when he 
went away to the war, a lieutenant in the 
14th Vermont Volunteers. He had been 
away more than a year and had risen in 
rank, until mamma’s letters were now 
directed to “ Colonel Dugald Stuart, in 
camp before Vicksburg.” 

Mountains were close about the valley 
in which the village lay, partly on the 
river-shore, and partly on the hills which 
rose up higher and higher to meet them. 
Common Hill was the name of the one 
on which half a dozen of the richer peo- 
ple’s houses stood; and Grandpa Ward- 
ner’s was one of these, standing between 


36 


grandpa’s house. 


old Squire Lawrence’s (Fanny’s grandfa- 
ther’s.) and Dr. Phelps’; a great, square, 
old-fashioned house, with wide hall through 
the middle, and rooms opening on either 
side ; the South parlor for winter, and the 
North for summer ; into which, after the 
snow came, a great pine table was set, 
whereon grandma put a wonderful stock 
of mince-pies, which lasted half the winter. 

Opposite the wide dining-room back of 
the South parlor, was grandma’s room, 
with its high-post bed, and gay chintz 
canopy and curtains, on which pink hay- 
makers raked up pink hay, and drank 
pink milk brought by a pink dairymaid, 
and a bureau so tall that grandma always 
climbed into a chair when she wanted any 
thing from the top drawer. There was 
grandpa’s chair with a writing-desk at the 
side, and a place for a lamp, and a deep 
drawer under it for papers, like no other 
chair that ever was made, and of no use 
at all either, for in the dining-room 
there stood a curiously carved old sec- 
retary, full of queer little pigeon-holes, 
and narrow drawers, and places enough 


grandpa’s house. 


37 


for all the papers that ever were. Grand- 
pa had been a judge a good many years, 
and all his old law books were on shelves 
about the dining-room, and a host of oth- 
ers beside, for no one room had ever been 
made the library, grandpa saying he never 
wanted to go after a book, but must al- 
ways have plenty at hand wherever he 
was. So the house had run to secretaries 
and book-cases, till Katy wondered who- 
ever could have used them all. 

There were hosts of little red angels 
with brown wings on the hall paper, and 
in the two parlors, pictures of very curious- 
looking gentlemen and ladies, walking 
about under stiff trees, and looking as 
though their clothes pinched them. The 
sofas and chairs were blue damask, with 
fringe nailed on with countless little brass- 
headed nails, and there were brass and- 
irons too in the fire-places, for grandpa 
would have naught to do with stoves, but 
all the winter through, had blazing wood- 
fires behind the tall fenders; and Katy 
spent many an hour making faces at her- 
self in the shining tops, where in one she 


38 


grandpa’s house. 


saw her face so long and narrow, that it 
didn’t seem as wide as her little finger, 
and in the other, wide enough to frighten 
anybody. 

There were shells all about, — brought 
from far over the sea, — pink and pearly, 
big and little, which Katy held to her ear 
sometimes, and listened to the rushing 
sound her mother told her was the voice 
of the sea ; the old-fashioned piano, still 
sweet, stood between the windows with 
their deep seats, where Katy could stow 
not only herself but a whole colony of 
dolls, and keep house a day at a time ; and 
grandma’s music-box, only wound up on 
very great occasions, was on a little side- 
table, an ever-present temptation to Katy. 
Up-stairs was the stately North chamber 
all in white, and the South one all in 
green, the blue room which Katy’s mother 
had now, and little rooms all about, put 
in as if by chance ; and over, all the great 
garret, almost a house in itself, and so many 
curious closets and herb-rooms and all that, 
that Katy could n’t quite make up her 
mind to like it yet. Her own little room, 


grandpa’s house. 


39 


for which she had begged because she was 
a great girl and going to school now, was 
right opposite mamma’s, and Katy slept in 
the very same bed her mother had done 
when she was little. Opening her eyes in 
the morning, she could look from her 
window, right out and over to the tall 
mountain with its purple shadows, and the 
robins sang to her from the crab-apple 
trees, and the squirrels ran up and down 
the old butternuts. So you see there was 
enough in and about her home, to give 
her plenty to think of and plenty to do, 
all the time. 

This particular morning I am going to 
tell you about, Katy was in the kitchen, — 
a great room built out at the back of the 
house, with such a chimney as you never 
saw, and a brick oven like a cave. Grand- 
ma had a stove now ; but black Nancy told 
of the days when all the cooking was done 
in that chimney, before the roaring fire, 
and always looked at the stove as if she 
had a special spite against it. 

Mamma was in the store-room, putting 
up luncheon for the children, while Katy 


40 


grandpa’s house. 


stood by, begging for more cookies and 
less bread and butter, and Rob was heard 
cracking last year’s butternuts in the wood- 
house chamber. It was cool and clear, as 
August mornings among the hills often 
are ; so cool that mamma brought a little 
red shawl, and pinned it about Katy. 

“ I don’t like to wear my red shawl, 
mamma,” said Katy ; “ there ’s an ugly 
cow on the road to school, and maybe 
she ’ll run at it. Rob says that he knew 
a cow that ran after a man because he 
had a red shirt on.” 

“ I don’t think you need be afraid, little 
daughter,” said mamma ; “ but if you are, 
take off the shawl when you come near 
the cow, and I don’t believe she ’ll even 
look at you, much less run. Now it ’s time 
to be off.” 

Mamma watched the little red shawl 
far down the road, till a curve hid it from 
her, and then went back to her work, with 
such a loving light in her beautiful eyes, 
that Katy surely would have hugged her 
tight, if only she could have seen it. Just 
then though, she was looking at something 


grandpa’s house. 


41 


else. Johnny Adams was seen in the path 
before them, followed by such a black-and- 
tan terrier, running and whisking about 
him, that Rob rushed forward in greatest 
excitement to meet him, and Peter Per- 
kins, whose house was just round the turn, 
and who had been standing at his gate 
waiting for them, also started on the full 
run, both he and Rob coming very near 
going head foremost into Johnny. 

“ Holloa!” said Johnny, pretending to 
be very much astonished, and not to know 
any thing about the dog ; “ somebody ’s 
most dead, and you ’re both going for the 
doctor. Hurry along, and I’ll let him 
know if I meet him.” 

“ Ain’t he a beauty though ! ” said Rob 
and Peter. “ Where did you get him, 
Johnny ? what ’s his name ? ” 

“1 guess he is all that,” said Johnny, 
forgetting to carry out his part; “ Jip ’s his 
name, and jump’s his natur; look a-there 
now, and see the crater.” 

“ Hi !” said Peter ; “ Johnny ’s making 
poetry.” 

“ What about ? ” said Katy, coming up 


42 


grandpa’s house. 


and half afraid of Jip, getting close to 
Kob. “ Will he bite ? ” 

“ I guess he won’t,” said Johnny ; u look 
a-here now,” and putting his hand in dip’s 
mouth, the two began a rough-and-tumble 
play, accompanied by such growls, and 
springs, and barks, that Katy felt as if she 
were going to be torn in bits, and ran up 
the bank at the side of the road. 

“ Ain’t that a dog for you now ? ” said 
Johnny, getting up with his hair standing 
up straight, and a hole rubbed in the knee 
of his trowsers. “ Uncle Jack sent him all 
the way from New York, in a box with 
slats across the top. Wasn’t he glad to 
get out ! He most eat me up when I 
called him Jip and began to pat him, and 
he licked the baby so hard, she fell right 
over backwards, and hollered like fun.” 

u I ’d a-hollered too,” said Katy ; “ he ’s 
an awfully lively dog.” 

“ I should think he was,” said Peter, as 
Jip made a spring for the dangling end of 
his book-strap. “ Won’t Miss Owens give 
it to you, for bringing him to school ? ” 

“ She won’t,” said Johnny ; “ she likes 
dogs, she said she did ; she ’ll be glad.” 












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grandpa’s house. 


43 


All this time the children were walking 
on, and had now almost reached the foot 
of the school-house hill. 

“ There ’s that ugly cow,” said Katy. “ I 
do wish she coulchTt ever do any thing 
but stay at home.”* 

“I guess I’ll send her there,” said John- 
ny. “ Hi, Jip ! stuboy ! seek her ! ” 

Jip needed not another word, but darted 
forward to the cow, which was really a 
very ugly looking one, with a poke around 
her neck, and a brass button on one horn, 
the other having come off in some way. 
Jip danced about her, snapping at her 
heels, barking and growling furiously, till 
the cow, finding he was never in one place 
long enough to be caught on her horns 
and tossed up, made a sudden dash down 
the road toward the children. Peter Per- 
kins went heels over head like a flash, over 
the fence, and Johnny caught Katy’s hand 
and pulled her toward the other side of 
the road, screaming, — 

“ Jump, Rob, fast as you can, and I ’ll 
help Katy.” 

Too late for Katy • red shawl, or what- 


44 


grandpa’s house. 


ever may have been the cause, the cow 
singled her out, and even as Johnny lifted 
her up the bank, she was caught on the 
horns and whirled over the fence to the 
field beyond, where she lay in a little heap 
among the tall grass without stirring, while 
the cow, still pursued by Jip, ran on down 
the road. 

“ Katy ! little Katy Stuart ! ” cried 
Johnny, lifting up the little arm, which 
fell limp from his hand. 

“ She ’s dead,” said Rob, getting down 
by her in the grass — “ she’s dead, Johnny; 
I wish I was dead too.” 

“ No, she is n’t,” said Johnny, but with 
such a shaking voice, that he might as well 
have said, “ Yes, she is.” 

Peter had looked for a moment, and 
then darted up the hill into the school- 
house, where Miss Owens sat waiting. 

“ Katy Stuart ’s dead, down to the foot 
of the hill,” he cried with a great sob; and 
Miss Owens, who had turned very pale, 
got up quickly and hurried down to the 
spot where the children were standing. 
Katy lay there, white and still, and Miss 


grandpa's house. 


45 


Owens shook as she felt first of the little 
wrist, and then laid her hand on the 
heart. 

“ She is alive,” she said ; “ get some 
water quick, Johnny;” and while Johnny 
ran and returned, she lifted Katy to her 
lap. The sound of wheels was heard 
coming toward the hill, and Miss Owens 
walked on to the road, holding Katy, and 
watched for the approaching wagon. 

“ Thank God, it ’s the doctor ! ” she said ; 
and old Dr. Phelps, as he saw who it was, 
stopped suddenly and jumped from his 
gig. 

“ What ’s it all about ? ” he said ; “ why, 
•the child’s arm is broken ! How did this 
happen ? ” 

Johnny, who had come back with the 
water, explained ; and then the doctor, 
who had been feeling Katy’s limbs, said, — 

“ Get in to my gig, will you, ma’am ? and 
I will have her at home in a twinkling. 
This is no place to do any thing; ” and he 
held Katy, as Miss Owens got in, and then 
laid her gently in her lap. 

u Take me too,” cried Rob ; and the 


46 grandpa’s house. 

doctor held out his hand to him after a 
second’s look, and then drove swiftly to- 
ward the village. 

Mamma sat at the window of the South 
parlor, sewing; and grandma, who had been 
away ever since our story began, and only 
got back this very morning, was walking 
about, and looking to see how her flowers 
had come on without her. The doctor had 
driven up Common Hill, and fastened his 
horse at the back gate, and now as they 
brought little Katy, still with closed eyes 
and white face, round the house, grandma 
cried out as she saw them, and mamma, 
coming out quickly to see what could be 
the matter, grew very pale and almost fell. 
Then she put out her arms. 

“ Give her to me,” she said ; and as they 
laid Katy into them, she walked quickly 
in, and still holding her, sat down in 
grandpa’s great chair. Katy’s eyes opened 
a moment, and then closed again. 

“ My dear,” said the old doctor, who had 
known mamma from a child, “ cheer up ! 
it ’s only a broken arm, when it might have 
been a lost life. She’s been tossed by 


grandpa’s house. 


47 


Pratt’s vicious cow, that ’s got to be beef 
by the end of this week, or my name ’s 
not Simon. Katy ’ll do well enough, when 
she comes out of this faint; better than 
you will, if you go on looking like that. 
Keep steady now, and we ’ll set the bone 
in a trice. Keep her head wet, and I ’ll 
be back with splints and chloroform in 
five minutes.” 

Katy had opened her eyes again, tried 
to sit up, and then fallen back with a sharp 
little cry of pain. 

“ What is it, mamma ? ” she said. “ I 
thought I was in school, and something 
hurted me.” 

“ Something did hurt you, darling,” said 
mamma, kissing her softly ; “ but you will 
be better pretty soon. Lie very still, and 
Dr. Phelps will make you well in a little 
while.” 

Katy felt too sick and faint to say any 
thing more, and in the dead sleep which 
came on as the chloroform was put to her 
face, the arm was set, and mamma un- 
dressed her, and laid her into her bed, 
where Katy found herself when she 
opened her eyes again. 


48 


grandpa’s house. 


“ Wliat ’s the matter with my arm, mam- 
ma?” she said. 

“ You broke it, dear,” said mamma. “ The 
cow you were afraid of this morning tossed 
you over the fence, and you fell with your 
arm under you, so that the tender little 
bone broke right in two.” 

“I hear somebody crying,” said Katy, 
after a moment. “ Is it Rob ? ” 

“ Yes,” said mamma. “Do you want him 
to come in ? ” 

“ I dess so,” said Katy ; and Rob, who 
had been sitting on the stairs and crying 
miserably, was called in. 

“You won’t go to school to-day, will you, 
Rob ?” said Katy. “You ’ll stay with me, 
’cause I ’ve got a broked arm.” 

“ I guess I will,” said Rob, hugging the 
unbroken one, which lay outside the bed. 
“Most all the school-children is down in 
the yard, ’cause they think you ’re dead.” 

“ Tell ’em I ain’t dead, Rob, only broked,” 
said Katy, “ and then you come back.” 

Rob went, but when he came back, 
Katy was asleep, and did not wake up till 
almost bed-time. Then mamma had some 


grandpa’s house. 


49 


medicine for her to take ; and as Katy 
could n’t bear medicine, a long while was 
spent in getting her to make up her mind 
to swallow it, and then it was Hob’s bed- 
time, and he only came in softly a minute 
to kiss her good-night. 

For a day or two, the novelty of being 
in bed, and having so many people coming 
to see her, kept Katy from getting too 
tired, and helped her to bear a good deal 
of the pain ; and then the village paper 
came out with a paragraph about the ac- 
cident, and she thought it a very remark- 
able thing to be talked about in a news- 
paper, and so did the school-children, who 
looked at her with great respect when 
they came in, while Rob stood by the bed 
and showed her off, thinking to himself, 
how fine it was to have them all paying 
her such attention. As the days went on 
though, she grew sadly weary of lying in 
one position, and mamma, who read her 
all the story-books in the house, began at 
last to tell her all she could think of. To 
tell you half of them, would fill a book 
larger than this one ; but one of them I 


50 


grandpa’s house. 


shall write for you, though you, ten or 
.twelve year-olders, must remember that 
it was meant for a very little girl, and 
therefore had to he more silly than any 
thing either mamma or I should ever 
dream of telling you. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE SPARROW STORY. 

“ Do/’ said Mr. Sparrow. 

“ Never/’ said Miss Sparrow. 

“ Don’t say ‘ never/ ” said Mr. Sparrow. 

“ But I will/’ said Miss Sparrow. “ Do 
keep away a minute, can’t you ?” and Mr. 
Sparrow flew to the next tree, and though 
it was the broadest, brightest sunshine 
that ever you saw, stood on one leg, and 
put his head under his wing, and did him- 
self up into a round ball, just as if it had 
been the darkest midnight; and Miss Spar- 
row cocked her head one side and pre- 
tended to sing, and then suddenly pounced 
down on a green bug crawling up the tree, 
and after she had got it in her bill, forgot 
to eat it, but let it dangle by one leg, till 
a sudden breeze came along and took the 
bug with it, and Miss Sparrow did n’t even 
know it was gone. 


52 


grandpa’s house. 


Now what could all this mean ? You 
shall know just as fast as I can tell you ; 
and perhaps what the bug said to his wife 
will help you to understand. 

The breeze had torn him right away 
from one of his best legs, which was still 
dangling from Miss Sparrow’s bill, but he 
had even now five left, and that is a good 
many, you know ; so when he had landed 
again at the foot of the tree, where the 
breeze dropped him, he crawled right up 
to the hole in the bark, where his wife sat, 
feeding the baby with honey-dew from the 
end of a clover, and then laid down on his 
back, and held up his legs, and would n’t 
speak a word, because he thought she 
ought to see at once that he had n’t come 
home with the proper number. 

Now the baby was cutting its teeth, and 
kicked and screamed unless it was fed 
with honey-dew every minute; so Mrs. 
Bug only said, “My dear, you’ll muss 
your wings, if you lie on your back like 
that,” and went on feeding. 

Then Mr. Bug began to groan dread- 
fully, though still he would n’t speak, and 


grandpa’s house. 


53 


Mrs. Bug got up and walked around him, 
with her back almost breaking, because 
she had to carry little Bug and the honey- 
pot too. 

“ Why, you Ve dropped off one of your 
legs,” she said pretty soon. “Did you 
know it ? ” 

“ Know it ! ” said Mr. Bug, almost chok- 
ing to death he was so angry. “ What did 
you suppose I came home for, if it was n’t 
to let you see the state I ’m in ? If Miss 
Sparrow had swallowed me, legs and all, 
you ’d have gone on stuffing little Bug, just 
the same.” 

Here the Speckled Spider, who knew 
there was something more than common 
the matter in the Bug family, put in her 
head and looked around her with six of her 
eyes, keeping the other two on a fly she 
thought might come nearer by and by. 

“ Ah ! there you are,” said Mr. Bug. “ I 
hope you ’ll make it a business to catch 
every fly that comes to this tree. I’d 
rather you ’d burst than that Miss Sparrow 
should ever have another.” 

“ What ’s the matter ? ” said the Spider. 


54 


grandpa’s house. 


u There it is again!” said Mr. Bug. “ I ’ve 
been carried up into the air like a whirl- 
wind, and held with my head down till I 
wonder I ’m alive, and why I was n’t eaten 
I should n’t have known, if the breeze 
hadn’t told me on the way down.” 

“ Why were n’t you ? ” said the Spider, 
who thought to herself, that when she had 
grown a little larger, she might very likely 
do it herself. 

“ Because Miss Sparrow is in love, and 
has n’t any appetite,” said Mr. Bug. 

“ Oh ! ” said the Spider, shaking a little, 
“ then we must all get further under the 
bark than ever, because as soon as she ’s 
over it, she ’ll eat every one of us, to make 
up for lost time.” 

“ But she won ’t be over it,” said Mr. 
Bug. “ All the time she held me, she was 
saying to herself, ‘ 0 lovely Sparrow ! If 
I only could make up my mind! ’ and she 
will very soon, because I remember dis- 
tinctly saying almost the same thing, the 
very day that I asked Mrs. Bug if she 
would have me, and all the time my mind 
was made up.” 


grandpa’s house. 


55 


“ Then there ’ll be a wedding, and by 
and by a nest full of young ones,” said 
the Spider, “ and we shall go faster than 
ever. I ’ve got thirty-seven hundred chil- 
dren in my egg-ball, and there won’t be 
one of them left. I wish I ’d settled in 
some other tree.” 

“ It don’t make the least difference 
where you are,” said Mr. Bug; “ there’s 
birds in each one, and you ’re fighting for 
your life every minute ; ” and Mr. Bug 
groaned and kicked so dreadfully, that 
Mrs. Bug dropped the baby, and ran to 
get the bottle of plantain-juice liniment, 
which she always kept by the bed, so as 
to put it on little Bug’s head when he 
tumbled out. 

In the mean time, Mr. Sparrow had 
taken his head from under his wing, and 
wiped his eyes on an apple-blossom ; and 
now, as he saw Miss Sparrow still swing- 
ing on a twig, he couldn’t help flying 
over to her, and settling down on another 
twig. Miss Sparrow said never a word, 
but she gave him one little look which 
must have meant a great deal, for Mr. 


56 


grandpa’s house. 


Sparrow was by her in a second, and be- 
gan such a song, that the Bluebird on the 
branch below looked up and laughed, and 
every worm and spider in the tree knew 
it was all settled, and they must look out 
for .themselves. As for Mr. Bug, he kicked 
off his poultice, and upset his catnip-tea, 
and went on so, that poor Mrs. Bug was 
almost distracted. 

“Now let us fly,” said Mr. Sparrow; and 
they did fly, so swiftly you could but just 
see them. 

“ I don’t know why it is, that I ’ve said 
yes,” said Miss Sparrow ; “ I never meant 
to build a nest, and have to sit days, and 
days, and days, only to hatch out little 
horrid, scrawny, naked birds. I always 
told mother, when she was flying from 
morning till night getting us bugs, that 
I never would, and I don’t believe I mean 
to now.” 

“Why,” said Mr. Sparrow, “we should n’t 
have half lived, if we did n’t. There ’s the 
cuckoo you and I met when we went 
South, that never has a nest of her own, 
and don't care whether she ever sees her 


grandpa’s house. 


57 


little birds or not, and she ’s unhappy and 
forlorn, and says ill-natured things about 
the other birds all the time. We ’ll build 
a dear little nest, and there ’ll be five lit- 
tle speckled eggs in it, and I’ll cuddle 
you, and feed you, and sing to you, and 
tell you all the news in Birdland, and 
you won’t mind it one bit.” 

Mr. and Miss Sparrow flew off together 
fast as they could go, and whether she 
was troubled any more about going to 
house-keeping right away, I ’m sure I 
don’t know, but I think not. There were 
no new clothes to be made; no cards to 
be printed ; no minister to run after. 

Getting married in Birdland is the eas- 
iest thing in the whole world, for just so 
soon as Miss Sparrow had made up her 
mind, and laid her little bill against Mr. 
Sparrow’s, that very minute she turned 
into Mrs . Sparrow, and could think of 
nothing else but the best place to go for 
all the little sticks and straws they would 
need to build a nest. 

Where do you think they build ed it ? 
Why, down at the foot of the very apple- 


58 


grandpa’s house. 


tree where Miss Sparrow had made up 
her mind, and where Mr. and Mrs. Bug 
lived; right down in the grass, among 
the suckers which grew up around the 
old tree, and would shadow the birdies 
by and by. Seven old apple-trees stood 
up in this orchard, close by a house where 
people lived who loved all birds, and who, 
though Mrs. Sparrow didn’t know it, had 
watched her flying about, and wondered 
if she would not soon build a nest. 

By the time the children found out 
where to put the crumbs, sticks and straw 
and grass had taken shape, five speckled 
eggs lay in the new nest, and Mrs. Spar- 
row sat patiently day after day, waiting 
for the little chirp that would tell her the 
still part of her work was over, and the 
noisy part begun. Mr. Sparrow kept his 
word, and stayed by her, day and night, 
taking her place sometimes, that she 
might fly away and stretch her cramped 
little legs and body. Terribly frightened 
at first by the two children who watched 
almost as eagerly for the little birds as 
she did, she grew quite accustomed to 


grandpa’s house. 


59 


them after a time, and she and Mr. Spar- 
row really grew fat on the quantities of 
crumbs which lay about the nest all the 
time. 

At last came a day, when a little knock- 
ing was heard in the speckled eggs, and 
Mrs. Sparrow broke away bits of the shell 
with her bill, and watched with all her 
eyes, till by and by, out there tumbled 
such a big-headed, little-bodied, long-legged 
sparrow, as always does tumble out of 
every sparrow’s egg ever hatched, and 
before the day had done, four more had 
followed. 

“ Now there ’s a leg, for a sparrow an 
hour old,” said Dr. Owl, who happened to 
be passing just as Number Four put his 
head out, and who thought to himself 
how delicious and tender they were, and 
how he would like to gobble up every 
one of them, if only it were a little 
darker; and Mrs. Sparrow held up her 
head and thought that nobody ever had 
had finer children, while Mr. Sparrow sat 
on a twig, and complimented her for hav- 
ing done so well. 


60 


grandpa’s house. 


What a noise they made though, till each 
worm crawling around in the web over- 
head, tried to get under every other worm, 
so as not to be the next one to stop their 
mouths. It was very fortunate that Mrs. 
Miller had chosen to lay all her caterpillar 
eggs on just that bough, for it made Mr 
Sparrow’s work so much easier, and though 
when he began, the net was running over, 
his children had such appetites that the 
supply would hardly hold out, particularly 
as Mrs. Bluebird was bringing up her 
family in the same way. 

Sparrow Number One was all over pin- 
feathers, and getting so big that he crowded 
the others dreadfully, and he sat on the 
very edge of the nest, kicking them if they 
tried to get up, and picking off every ant 
and bug that crawled up the bark. Mrs. 
Sparrow was really afraid of him, for he 
would have the whole of her right wing 
over him all night, and of course when the 
left one had to cover the other four, you 
can think how it would ache next morn- 
ing. Then he swallowed more than half 
the worms, and said so soon as he could fly 


grandpa’s house. 6 1 

he should turn the others out ; and alto- 
gether made things very uncomfortable. 

Mrs. Bluebird’s children were older ; and 
so were taking flying lessons, and getting 
ready to go into society very soon ; and the 
oldest Miss Bluebird practiced trills every 
morning, and had very little to say to the 
Sparrow family, who lived at the foot of 
the tree, and never wore any thing but 
gray and brown. 

Now Sparrow Number One grew more 
and more discontented, wondering why he 
had n’t been born at the top of the tree, 
and why his pin - feathers did n’t come 
in blue instead of brown; and then he 
thought if only he could get away from 
this nest and his stupid brothers and sis- 
ters, how much more of a chance he should 
have ; till at last he said in his silly little 
mind, he would go, any way ; he could n’t 
stand this sort of life a day longer. 

So that afternoon, when both father and 
mother had flown to the strawberry-bed, to 
see if there might not be a ripe berry for 
tea, he got up on the edge of the nest, 
and without a word to anybody, fluttered 


62 


grandpa’s house. 


down to the grass. It was cool and fresh, 
and little bugs and worms were crawling 
all about. 

“ Tell me I can’t take care of myself ! ” 
said Number One ; “ here are worms enough 
for all summer. Now I must find a tree of 
my own;” and he hopped through the 
grass farther and farther away from the 
old home. All at once, though, how dark 
it grew ; and how he was going down, down, 
till he stopped with a dreadful jerk, and 
his little legs doubled right up under him ! 
Where do you think he was ? Why, in a 
very deep hole, where a post had once been, 
and at the very bottom of which there lived 
such a great earth-worm, that if the Spar- 
row had n’t been too stunned by his fall, 
he would certainly have screamed on seeing 
it. The white grub put out his head to see 
what w T as the matter, and the crickets ran to 
the edge of the hole and looked down, but 
nobody was sorry ; they saw he was too lit- 
tle to fly, and all knew that he must have 
run away from home. There he stayed, and 
I ’m afraid to say what became of him. All 
I know about it is, that the burying-beetles 


grandpa’s house. 


63 


walked in procession to the hole two or 
three days afterward, and that means that 
they were going to cover him up careful- 
ly in the ground. The earth-worm could 
have told, but she never did, and so though 
Mrs. Sparrow flew over that very hole, in 
looking for him, she never knew that her 
first little bird lay at the bottom. The 
other little Sparrows were so glad to have 
plenty of room, that I don’t think they 
missed him much, and then, too, they were 
beginning to fly, and almost ready to leave 
the nest. 

Now I must tell you what happened to 
Mrs. Bug. Little Bug had grown up, but 
there was another baby-bug who acted 
just as badly and ate just as much honey- 
dew as his brother, and Mrs. Bug was get- 
ting quite old and thin with care and 
trouble. You see she had never taught 
either of them to take care of themselves, 
and whatever she was doing, always held 
little Bug tight, so he was the most help- 
less bug you ever saw. His father was all 
out of patience with him, and stayed away 
from home almost all the time, partly be- 


64 


grandpa’s house. 


cause he could n’t bear to see his wife get- 
ting so round-shouldered, and then he was 
lazy himself, and did n’t want to help 
her. 

Well, one day little Bug had stuffed till 
he had dreadful pains, and poor Mrs. Bug 
started down the tree for some fresh cat- 
nip. Sparrow Number Two sat on a sucker, 
and watched her as she came along. He 
was n’t very hungry, for he had just eaten 
a large hairy caterpillar, but it is bird na- 
ture to snap at every thing, and all at once 
there was an end of Mrs. Bug, and nobody 
ever saw her again. 

Thaf night when Mr. Bug came home, 
there was nobody at the door to meet him, 
and little Bug lay on the floor kicking and 
screaming. 

“ Stop that noise ! ” said Mr. Bug. 
“ Where ’s your mother ? ” but he forgot 
that little Bug couldn’t talk any yet, be- 
cause he was too young. What was to be 
done ? 

Mr. Bug gave him honey-dew, and cat- 
nip, and every thing he could find, and 
rubbed him all over with plantain-juice 


grandpa’s house. 


65 


liniment, till there was n’t a bit left, and 
then he walked the floor with him almost 
all night, and still little Bug kicked and 
screamed, till, when morning came, Mr. 
Bug looked ten days older, and that ’s a 
long time in a bug’s life. 

Now down at the bottom of the tree 
lived a small black bug, who seemed never 
to have any thing to do, but to sit in her 
door and scold all the ants that came too 
near. She had seen Mrs. Bug snapped up, 
and at once it came into her head, what a 
fine chance was here for settling in life. 
So when Mr. Bug came walking slowly 
and miserably down, Miss Black Bug met 
him with a very sweet smile, and said she 
had really pitied him so all night that she 
could n’t sleep, and he must certainly send 
little Bug down to her, else he would be 
quite worn out. All this time she stood in 
the sun, so that Mr. Bug could see the 
green and gold on the tips of her wings. 
He said but little then, for he had not quite 
forgotten poor Mrs. Bug ; but a day or two 
more of little Bug decided him, and before 
the Speckled Spider could advise him as 


66 


grandpa’s house. 


she had meant to, Miss Black Bug had be- 
come Mrs. Bug number two. 

Then there were times ! Little Bug 
grew to be afraid of his own shadow, and 
as for honey-dew, gracious ! if he had the 
tale end of a clover once in three days, he 
was a lucky bug. None of the old friends 
were allowed to come to the house, and at 
last Mr. Bug grew so desperate, what with 
wishing he had been better to the first 
Mrs. Bug, and planning how to get away 
from the second one, that one day, going 
home with his head down, he ran right in- 
to a hen-coop and was eaten up in a min- 
ute. What became of little Bug I don ’t 
exactly know, but the Speckled Spider 
can tell you all about it. 

All this time the Sparrow family were 
growing up, fast as possible. Summer days 
passed on, and autumn came ; the birdies 
were no more care or trouble. They flew 
home at night, and sat about the old nest, 
and twittered little songs, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Sparrow sat side by side, and looked 
at them, and thought of the coming days 
when they would have nests of their own, 
and they said to themselves, — 


grandpa’s house. 67 

"Well, do as they will, they never can 
have quite such birdies as ours.” 

So time will go on. New nests will be 
builded and new birdies come, and by and 
by, full of happy days, little Mr. and Mrs. 
Sparrow will fold their wings, and shut 
their bright eyes in a very long sleep, and 
new sparrows will take their places, and 
Grandfather Longlegs will tell stories of 
the days when they were young, and the 
old nest will be empty forever. 


CHAPTER V. 


Katy had time for many stories before 
she was really well again. The little bones 
in her arm had joined nicely, so that you 
never would know it had been broken, but 
she had headaches every now and then, and 
did not feel strong; and Dr. Phelps had 
her lie very still a good deal of the time, 
because he was afraid something had hap- 
pened to her back. So there were many 
long, weary days of bed and sofa ; and 
though Katy tried to be very patient — she 
was but a little girl, who had been running 
and playing all her life, and who could but 
just bear to keep still — she had many a 
cry, sometimes with mamma’s arms tight 
about her, but often with her little head 
down in the pillow, and nobody to see. 

You can think then how glad she, and 
every one in the house, must have been, 
when one bright day in early October, Dr. 
Phelps said she was all right now, and 


grandpa’s house. 69 

would n’t need him any longer. Katy had 
almost forgotten what it would seem like 
to run just as fast and as long as she 
pleased, and for the first few days, mamma 
had very often to say, “ Slower, slower, lit- 
tle daughter.” 

There was so much to see that had been 
done during her long weeks in the house. 
Dolly’s calf had grown to be half as large 
as herself, and the little chickens had, ever 
so many of them, turned into young roos- 
ters, with funny specks of combs, and no 
tails to speak of, who were always getting 
behind bushes and trying to crow, or peck- 
ing at each other, till their silly little heads 
were all bloody. Out of Mrs. Nickelby’s 
thirteen turkies there were but eight re- 
maining, the rest having died of hasty 
consumption, because they would run in- 
to the long grass after grasshoppers before 
it was dry ; and turkies, you know, never 
have very good health while they are 
young, and if they are not very careful 
about getting their feet wet, die right 
away. 

It was Friday afternoon. Fanny Law- 


70 


grandpa’s house. 


rence, who had a cold, had not gone to 
school that day, but, instead, had come in 
to play with Katy. 

The two little girls were keeping house ; 
a famous one, made of four chairs, with a 
blanket shawl spread over the top. Katy 
had one of her mother’s gingham aprons 
tied on hind side before, and was trailing it 
over the floor while she put her doll Maria 
to sleep, and Fanny, who had turned her 
dress around, so that it buttoned up in 
front, and made her feel almost as old as 
the grandmother she was pretending to 
be, sat telling a story to the two baby 
dolls, who lay in a little cradle with a 
pocket-handkerchief over them. 

Rob came stamping up the stairs, and 
banged the door as he came in. 

“ I must be weal quiet, if I ’m going to 
get Maria to sleep ever,” said Katy ; “ do 
keep still, Rob.” 

“ How do you do, Mrs. Stuart ? ” said 
Rob, paying very little attention to the 
reproof “ I ’m Maria’s father, come home 
from the war, and I ’ll stay to tea I guess.” 

"Well,” said Katy, "I was playing 


grandpa’s house. 


71 


grandpa’s cane was our husband, but you ’ll 
be a good deal nicer, Rob, ’cause you can 
help take care of Maria and the babies too. 
Please to take a chair, Mr. Gray.” 

“ Why, you must n’t call me Mr. Gray if 
I call you Mrs. Stuart,” said Rob. "I’m 
Mr. Stuart now. There ’s going to be 
school to-morrow, Katy, and Miss Owens 
wanted you to come.” 

“ To-morrow ? ” repeated Katy. “ Why, 
to-morrow’s Saturday. We don’t ever 
have school Saturday.” 

Fanny laughed out loud, and then be- 
gan to cough as if she had n’t meant to, 
and Rob frowned at her, and shook his 
head, till Katy thought it was very 
strange, and that they must have some 
secret she didn’t know. 

“ I ’m going Monday, any way,” said she. 
“ I don ’t w^ant to go to-morrow.” 

“ Oh yes you do,” said Fanny, ■“ so ’s to 
know where the lessons are for Monday.” 

“ But why did n’t Miss Owens tell, to- 
day ? ” asked Katy. “ She always said, 
there ought n’t to be any school Saturday. 
What makes her have it to-morrow ? ” 


72 


grandpa’s house. 


Fanny laughed again, and Eob turned a 
somerset into the shawl-house, knocking 
over the cradle and sending the two babies 
flying. 

" Oh dear ! ” said Katy, who still felt a 
little fretful, " There ’s Josephine and Em- 
ma on the floor, and you both laugh and 
won’t tell me what it is. I wish you was 
both home. Oh suz me ! ” and Katy cried, 
and felt that she was having very hard 
times indeed. 

"Well,” said Eob, "you won’t cry to- 
morrow, any way, for something good’s 
going to happen after school.” 

"Oh, what?” said Katy ; but Fanny looked 
frightened, and Eob ran out of the room, 
as if that were the only safe thing to do. 

Katy could but just go to sleep that 
night, she was so curious to know what 
they could mean ; but at last she did, and 
was but just able to wake up next morn- 
ing in time for breakfast. 

"We shan’t want any luncheon, mam- 
ma,” she said, " ’cause we ’re coming home 
at noon, you know.” 

" Are you ? ” said mamma, smiling a 


grandpa’s house. 


73 


little. “ The basket is all ready, and as you 
may be hungry, I guess you had better 
take it.” 

“ What ’s Rob got a big basket for ? ” said 
Katy ; “ is he going to stop at the store ? ” 

u Perhaps,” answered mamma, buttoning 
her warm sack ; and the children started 
off, — Rob looking so important, that 
Katy didn ’t know what it meant, but for- 
got it soon, in the strangeness of going 
over this old road again. She felt as if she 
must be a great deal older, and yet there 
stood the big mullen, looking exactly the 
same as it did two months ago ; the sheep 
were feeding on the same hill-side, only 
now the leaves were crimson and gold, in- 
stead of clear green, and there was such a 
carpet of them under one tree, that Katy, 
after filling her hands full, was so busy 
looking them over, she did not even no- 
tice when they passed the spot where 
the cow had tossed her, so many weeks be- 
fore. She thought it curious that none of 
the children were out to meet her, and still 
more curious, that when she went in, all 
of them should be sitting with their hats 


74 


grandpa’s house. 


on, and a basket before each one. Miss 
Owens was there too, with her hat on, and 
took Katy into her lap, while she called 
the roll, which was queerer than all ; when 
it was over, too, instead of saying, “ The 
first class in spelling can take their places,” 
Miss Owens said, “ Now, girls and boys ; ” 
and there was such a rush for that school- 
room door, that Katy thought everybody 
was crazy. 

“ Hoop de dooden do-o-o-o-o ! ” shouted 
Johnny Adams. “We’re going to have 
one more good time, Katy Stuart ! Ain’t 
you glad you broke your arm, ’cause you 
would n’t a-had this if you had n’t ? ” 

“ Had what ? ” said Katy, more puzzled 
than ever. “ What you all going to do ? 
How you do act ! ” 

“ Going to Paradise,” screamed Peter 
Perkins. “ Who would n’t act ? ” 

“ Going to have a picnic, a real picnic,” 
said Clara Perry, “ all because you ’ve got 
well, and we ’re all so sorry for you, and 
my basket ’s just as full of cake as it can be. 
Mother made beauties, ’cause she said you 
were a real nice little gal.” 


grandpa's house. 


75 


“ I ’ve got sandwidges,” said Peter Per- 
kins, — “ a whole ham most, made into sand- 
widges.” 

“ Oh stop now, telling what you ’ve got,” 
said Hiram Jones, one of the large boys ? 
almost fourteen years old, who kept quite 
near Miss Owens, and had made up his 
mind to offer her his arm, if they came to 
any muddy spots in the road. “We want 
the fun of seeing the baskets opened. 
Come on now ; ” and the whole party of 
children started down a lane which 
branched from the main road, leading 
to the school- house, and which after a 
walk of half a mile or so, brought you to 
Paradise, through Punk Hole. 

Of course you want to know just what 
Paradise is, and I will tell you at once • 
though as you must pass through Punk 
Hole to reach it, that shall come first. 

Punk Hole, then, was the name of a 
swamp, or of land which at certain seasons 
was swampy, and in the very centre of 
which was a small pond; — a very small 
one indeed, not much bigger than a well, 
said to be so deep that nobody had ever 


76 


grandpa’s house. 


found the bottom 3 though as it was mud 
and water all about it, I don’t believe, be- 
tween you and me, that anybody ever had 
tried. Somebody had bought the Punk 
Hole property two or three years before, 
and made a winding road through it, to a 
path which passed over the very steep 
little hill at its back, covered with dark 
pines and hemlocks, and slippery with 
their leaves all the year through, till 
winter snows covered them. Once up 
and over this hill, there lay before you 
a lovely open meadow, here high ground 
and there low; dotted with groups of 
trees, and rising gently to another hill, 
also covered with pines, from which you 
looked down into a narrow rocky ravine, 
where a brook brawled along, and fell at 
last in a little sheet of foam to a broader 
brook below. Standing here on the high- 
est point, one looked off on one side to the 
grand old mountain, on the other to the 
river, and the meadows on its shores, and 
the quiet village ; and far off, the Green 
Mountain Peaks, and the blue sky over all. 
No wonder they called it Paradise, for even 


grandpa’s house. 


77 


the noisy children felt the quiet beauty 
of the scene, and were half still a moment. 
Only a moment, and then a round ball of 
boys was going heels over head down the 
slope, and a game of tag began among 
the girls, followed by “ Drop the hand- 
kerchief,” and more plays than I can re- 
member, or than you will, either, when 
you get to be as old as I am. 

Johnny Adams was very busy indeed 
behind a tree, working away at something, 
and could n’t be persuaded to come out. 

Lucy Perkins, who was even more curi- 
ous than her brother, crept up behind the 
tree and peeked at him. Johnny had a 
perfect stack of beautiful autumn leaves 
by his side, and from these he was picking 
out the very smallest and brightest, and 
making them into a delicate wreath, fast- 
ening the leaves together with the tiniest 
bits of stem. 

“ Who can he be doing it for ? ” thought 
Lucy Perkins, giving her red curls a flirt. 
Maybe it ’s for me. I ’ve got nicer curls 
than any of them.” 

Lucy was mistaken. When Johnny 


78 


grandpa’s house. 


came out, he went, not toward her, but to- 
ward Katy, who, because she had been an 
invalid, was sitting in a great pile of shawls, 
and resting after the fatigues of tag. The 
sun shone down on her brown curls ; great 
round curls that never needed hot irons 
nor papers, but almost took care of them- 
selves. All the summer’s tan had gone 
away while she was in bed, and it was a 
very fair, little face, looking off to the hills, 
and then at Johnny as he came up. 

“ Oh what a beautiful wreath ! ” said two 
or three of the little girls running up. 
“ Who ’s it for, Johnny ? ” 

“ Guess,” said Johnny, going behind 
Katy, and dropping it quietly on her head. 
“I guess it’s for about the prettiest girl, if 
she is little.” 

“ She ’ll be a stunner, when she ’s your 
age, Miss Owens,” said Hiram Jones. 

“Long before that,” said Miss Owens, 
laughing, while Katy, who was blushing 
very hard, sat with her head down, and 
finally, embarrassed at seeing so many 
eyes fixed on her, put her thumb in her 
mouth, just as she used to do. 


grandpa’s house. 


79 


“ She ain’t any thing but a baby, any 
way,” said Lucy Perkins, who was nine, 
almost. “ If Johnny Adams is a-mind to 
make wreaths for a baby, I ’m sure I do n’t 
care.” 

“ You ’d better not,” said Spencer Hall, 
a new boy from New York, who was visit- 
ing his aunt in the village. “ ’Tain’t likely 
anybody ’ll trouble themselves much to 
make wreaths for you.” 

“ Oh, you feel very grand because 
you ’re all the way from New York,” be- 
gan Lucy, very angry; "I guess you ain’t 
any better than anybody else.” 

Miss Owens saw some trouble coming, 
and stepped toward them. 

“ Lucy, they say you are a nice little 
housekeeper,” said she, “ and I wish you ’d 
help me about unpacking some of these 
baskets.” 

Lucy’s face smoothed at once, and there 
was a rush to the spot by all the children, 
who had heard what was said. 

“ Look out for them sandwidges ! ” sung 
Out Peter Perkins from the top of a young 
birch he had climbed to see if it would 


80 


grandpa’s house. 


make a good swing. “I don’t believe 
anybody else has got sandwidges.” 

"All the nicer then that you have 
plenty,” said Miss Owens. " Where shall 
our table be ? ” 

Here there was an uproar ; part of the 
girls wanting it on the grass in the level 
meadow, and part on the flat rock near 
the brook, and the boys caring very little 
either way, but contradicting everybody 
at once, for the sake of the fuss it made. 

"On the rock is the best place,” said 
Miss Owens, rather sorry she had asked 
any questions ; " then we shall be near 
the brook, and we ’re likely to want a 
good deal of water, for here is a great 
bottle of lemon-juice, and sugar, in Hob’s 
basket, and we shall all have lemonade ” 

While she talked, Miss Owens was very 
busy, bringing out one nice thing after 
another. Peter Perkins’ " sandwidges ” 
were really as nice as he thought, and 
made a wonderful pile, on a piece of white 
birch-bark. Two or three of the older 
boys had cut squares of the same bark for 
plates, which were handed around to all 


grandpa’s house. 


81 


the boys and girls who were now sitting 
down on the short crisp grass about the 
rock. There were only two tin cups, one 
for the boys and one for the girls, which 
made it take a long time for everybody 
to get enough lemonade ; but I ’m not 
sure that it did not taste all the better, 
for being a little hard to get. 

" There ain’t an inch o’ room left in me,” 
said Spencer Hall, looking solemnly at a 
pile of doughnuts still remaining, "and 
how I ’m going to worry down any more I 
don ’t see.” 

"No more do I,” said Johnny Adams. 
" What ’ll w r e do with what ’s left ? No- 
body knows whose any of it is now ; so 
there ’s no use trying to give everybody 
their own, back again.” 

" I ’ll tell you what we can do,” said 
Miss Owens, who was leaning back against 
a tree, eating a sponge-cake heart. " Sup- 
pose we put all the rest, nicely into the 
largest basket, and go home by Aunt Patty 
Simmons’ ? ” 

"Bully for you!” shouted Johnny Ad- 
ams j at which Miss Owens looked a little 
6 


82 


grandpa’s house. 


serious, but said nothing, and all the girls 
crowded around. 

"Won’t she be astonished ? ” said Clara 
Perry. “ I don’t believe she ever has any 
cake at all, except when she goes to sewin’- 
circles. Ain’t it nice you thought about 
her, Miss Owens ? ” 

“ Miss Owens always thinks nice things,” 
said Johnny ; at which Miss Owens made 
a little curtsey, and then began to pack the 
basket with the remaining sandwiches, 
doughnuts, and slices of cake, of every sort 
you can think of. 

" Now, children,” she said, when with a 
white napkin spread nicely over it, the 
basket was all ready, "let us have one 
good sing, and then we must start for 
home, for it is growing too cool to stay 
here much longer.” 

Miss Owens was a little bit old-fashioned 
in her tastes, maybe ; at any rate the sing- 
ing-book in her school was quite an old 
one, and the children sang from it tunes 
that perhaps your mammas will remember 
and know more about than any of you. 
So when they all stood up together, they 


grandpa’s house. 


83 


sang, “ Oh come, come away,” and “ Lightly 
row, lightly row,” and half a dozen others, 
which, for some reason always seemed to 
me nicer songs for children to sing than 
almost any of the very new ones. 

“Now, two by tw r o,” said Miss Owens, 
“and we’ll march down to Punk Hill 
path.” 

Every boy took the girl he liked best, 
and a long file went on through Paradise, 
to the tune of, “ The Campbells are com- 
ing, Oho ! Oho ! ” Peter Perkins marched 
so hard, that he came right out at the toe 
of his boot, but kept on all the same, till 
the steep path and the slippery pine-leaves 
on Punk Hole hill, stopped all marching, 
and the children scurried down like a flock 
of sheep, and through the swampy ground 
to the land beyond. 

Aunt Patty Simmons, who lived not 
very far from the school-house, was an old, 
old woman, who if she had not been too 
proud, would have gone to the Poor Farm, 
long ago. She owned the speck of a house 
she lived in, and a patch of ground at the 
back, where she raised a few potatoes and 


84 


grandpa’s house. 


beans. She knit stockings and mittens of 
blue yarn which she spun, and so earned 
a little money, but how she contrived to 
live on it, nobody exactly knew. Katy’s 
grandfather sent her a load of wood every 
year when winter came on, and had his 
men saw and split it for her, and at Christ- 
mas time tea and sugar and a good many 
nice things found their way to her ; but, 
for all that, she must often have had pretty 
hard times. 

Aunt Patty was at her door as the noisy 
party came up, and looked a little suspi- 
ciously at them. You see she had an ap- 
ple-tree, — an apple-tree almost always full 
of delightful red Seek-no-furthers, and two 
or three of these very boys could have told 
you just how those apples tasted. I don’t 
intend to tell you their names, for Miss 
Owens, who somehow found out all about 
it, had made them feel very much ashamed 
that they could ever have robbed the ap- 
ple-tree of such a poor, old, helpless woman, 
and there was small chance they would 
ever do it again. 

Miss Owens went forward, with the great 
basket. 










































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grandpa’s house. 


85 


" How d’ye do, Aunt Patty ? ” she said ; 
" the children have been on their last pic- 
nic for this season, and they have brought 
you a part of the good things their mothers 
gave them.” 

" Well, to be sure,” said Aunt Patty, tak- 
ing the basket, and looking quite pleased 
as she opened it. " I ’ll empty it right 
away. Won’t you all come in?” 

" No, thank you,” said Miss Owens, 
"there are almost too many of us;” and 
Aunt Patty trotted in briskly, and was 
heard rattling her plates, as she put away 
first one and then another, filled with 
goodies. 

" Bless your hearts ! ” she said, " I wish 
I was rich enough to knit every one of 
you a pair of mittens. I don ’t know as 
I’ve have had a pound-cake in my cup- 
board since I was a young woman.” 

" Ain’t that dreadful ! ” said Fanny Law- 
rence, as they all went on, after saying 
good-by. "Only think of never having 
any cake.” 

" Not the worst thing in the world,” said 
Miss Owens ; but Fanny looked as though 
she thought it must be. 


86 


grandpa’s house. 


All this time the party was growing 
smaller and smaller, as the children, one 
after another, turned down lanes to their 
different homes, till there remained only 
the few who lived on and back of Common 
Hill, — Miss Owens, Fanny, Katy, and 
Rob, Hiram J ones and Spencer Hall, who 
seemed to have taken a great fancy to 
Katy, and said the sponge-cakes she had 
brought in her basket were a great deal 
better than any a New York baker could 
ever make. 

Lumbering on before them, was a great 
wagon drawn by red oxen, and loaded with 
corn, going home from the field. 

" That ’s grandpa’s wagon,” said Katy. 
" Maybe Tim ’ll let us have a ride. Tim, 
Tim ! ” she called, " mayn’t we have a 
ride ? ” 

"Faith an’ you may thin,” said Tim, 
smiling down at her as she ran up to the 
wagon. " Who ’d be say in’ no, to the 
likes o’ you ? ” 

" All of us, I mean,” said Katy. "We all 
want a ride.” 

"All but me,” said Miss Owens. "I 
must go on to the post-office.” 


grandpa’s house. 


87 


“ Up with yees,” said Tim ; “ if ’t was a 
full load I would n’t be lettin’ yees, but it ’s 
the last o’ the field.” 

Up the children scrambled, in among 
the sweet-smelling corn-sheaves; and the 
patient oxen pulled on, up the hill, 
through the lane, to the door of grand- 
pa’s barn. Tim tossed the children in at 
the great bay-window on the second floor, 
and they tumbled down through the hay 
to the floor below; and then, as it was 
getting really late, and there was the Sun- 
day-school lesson for to-morrow to think 
of, said good-by to each other, and went 
home, every child declaring it was the 
nicest picnic that ever had been. What 
do you think? 

Katy hung her wreath around a little 
picture in her room, and the bright colors 
lasted till each leaf shrivelled up. Finally 
one day a sharp wind blew in and carried 
it away, never to be seen again, but Katy 
never forgot about it. 


CHAPTER VI 


November came at last. Every leaf that 
had held on tight to the bough till Jack 
Frost nipped so hard it could n’t cling 
another minute, fluttered down to join 
the great company gone before. The 
autumn winds came rushing among them, 
whirling them over and over, till each one 
was so crisp and brown you never could 
have seen any difference between them, 
but would have said every one was the 
same size and every one from the same 
tree. Grandpa’s House, you know, stood 
on a hill, with three terraces in front and 
paths winding all the way down, with 
great trees on either side ; while long 
flights of steps ran right up the middle of 
each terrace, if one did not want to follow 
the paths. Now these paths were filled 
with leaves, brown and dry, as I have said, 
and Rob and Katy ran down through them, 
kicking them into great piles, and then 


grandpa’s house. 


89 


throwing them np for the wind to blow about 
again. Half-way down the path, around 
the second terrace, was a little arbor, with 
a seat on each side and an old-fashioned 
honeysuckle growing over it, which made 
it very sweet in the summer. Rob would 
stand in the very middle of this arbor and 
Katy would rush down through the leaves, 
kicking just as many as she could into it ; 
till, after ten minutes or so of this fun, 
Rob was almost covered up. Then she 
would bring enough in her arms to com- 
plete the work, and after hiding him en- 
tirely, she would run away to the top of 
the second terrace and cry out, “ I am sure 
I hear a bear ! Dear, dear ! there is a bear 
here, I know ! ” 

Then Rob would kick about and growl 
dreadfully, making a terrific noise among 
the leaves. Katy, hearing him, would say, 
u Oh he ’s coming ! I hear him so plain ! 
Where shall I go ? I guess I’ll hide in the 
arbor.” 

And down Katy would run, and out the 
bear would pounce, and such a rolling over 
in the leaves, and such growls, and such 


90 


grandpa’s house. 


squeals ! Dear me ! It makes me quite 
warm to think of it now. 

This particular day, it happened that 
Katy, for almost the first time in her life, 
was left all alone. Aunt Katy and mamma 
and Rob were spending the day at Spring- 
field. Grandma had said she should be so 
lonesome if Katy went too, that Katy had 
consented to stay at home, thinking to 
herself, Fanny Lawrence might come in, 
and a tea-party be the result. Through 
the morning, she played alone, but after 
dinner ran over to ask Fanny to come at 
once. What was her disappointment when 
Mrs. Lawrence said, “ Fanny has gone off 
with her father, and will not be home till 
night.” 

She walked back slowly, kicking the 
leaves before her as she went, but there 
was no fun in that, all by herself ; so she 
felt very lonely, until in a minute a bright 
idea came into her head, and she ran as 
fast as she could to grandma’s room, and 
called, “ Grandma, grandma ! Marion Mor- 
ton ’s never been up here to tea ; may n’t 
I go and get her, ’cause I ’m all alone ? ” 


grandpa’s house. 


91 


Grandma never liked to refuse, but to- 
day the girl was away, the cake-pot quite 
empty, her head ached, and altogether, a 
strange child there to tea seemed some- 
thing she could n’t quite make up her mind 
to. So she said, “Not to-day, dear. Some 
other time you may, ’’ and lay back on her 
lounge. 

“ Dear, dear, dear ! ” said Katy, “ I do be- 
lieve I can’t ever have any thing I want ; ” 
and she went slowly back to the little 
arbor, where she and Eob played Bear ; 
and from which she could plainly see the 
street. 

A pedler’s wagon passed, painted bright 
red, drawn by white horses, and Katy 
wondered what was inside. Then Peter 
Perkins went by, rattling a stick over the 
fence pickets and swinging a tin pail. 
After Peter, came the minister, with his 
hands crossed behind him, taking his after- 
noon walk, toward the river. 

“ I guess I ’ll go to walk,” said Katy ; 
and she was out of the gate in two 
minutes, going toward the house where 
old Mrs. Morton, Marion’s grandmother, 
lived. 


92 grandpa’s house. 

Marion was a little girl, just about Katy’s 
age, who had never been in Windsor before 
this summer; a delicate little city child, 
with a fashionable mother, who dressed her 
beautifully, and then let the nurse take 
care of her. All the little girls were crazy 
over her, because she had such a pretty 
face and such fine clothes. As Katy 
walked along, she thought to herself, "I 
do believe grandma meant she might come, 
’cause she said ‘ another time,’ and that 
means she can come some time. Grandma 
does n’t care even if a lot come, and I 
know she won’t if it ’s a teenty girl.” 

Katy had reached Mrs. Morton’s gate 
and, hardly hesitating, she opened it and 
ran up to the front door. Marion opened 
it and was so glad to see her Katy forgot 
all doubts, and when Marion’s mother came 
in, asked at once, u May n’t Marion go 
home with me to tea ? ” 

“ She is n’t dressed,” said Mrs. Morton, 
“ but nurse can dress her. Yes, I think 
she may.” 

So Marion was taken up-stairs, followed 
by Katy, who watched the putting on of 


grandpa’s house. 


93 


a little scarlet skirt and black velvet 
jacket with a white waist underneath, and 
wondered how she should feel if she wore 
such clothes every day. 

When fairly on the way to grandma’s, 
Katy began to feel troubled, and hardly 
spoke a word. As they neared home, she 
looked more and more uncomfortable, 
until, when they had gone through the 
gate and round the terraces as far as the 
arbor, she sat down, half ready to cry. 

“ How queer you do act,” said Marion. 
“ What is the matter ? ” 

“ Nothing,” said Katy. “ Let ’s play down 
here.” 

So they began to play; but in a few 
minutes Marion said, “I want to go in. 
Let ’s go in now and see your dolls.” 

Katy knew very well, now she stopped 
to think, that gran din a would be dis- 
pleased at her disobedience. It would 
never do to take Marion in, but what else 
to do with her she could n’t think. “ Oh 
it’s nicer down here ! ” she said. “ I guess 
we ’ll stay here.” 

But Marion would have nothing less 


94 


grandpa’s house. 


than going into the house, and began to 
walk up toward the door. 

“ Don’t, Marion,” said Katy. “ Do stay 
here.” 

But Marion did not stop; and finding 
she would go on, Katy cried out ; “ Grand- 
ma don’t want you ! She did n’t say I 
could ask you ! You must n’t go in ! ” 

“ What ? ” said Marion, turning about 
quickly. 

“ I say you must n’t go in, ’cause grand- 
ma don’t want you,” said Katy, so ashamed 
it seemed as though she must go right 
through the ground. 

“ Oh,” said Marion, “ I guess I won’t go 
where I ’m not wanted ! You ’re a mean, 
hateful thing, Katy Stuart, and don’t you 
ever come to my house again and Marion 
flounced down the path, toward the gate. 

“ Oh, don’t go away ! ” cried Katy, quite 
desperate. “ Let ’s go somewhere else. 
Let ’s go see Laura Kendall. They most 
always have short-cake for tea — Laura 
says so.” 

“Do they ? ” said Marion, softening a 
little. “ If you was n’t so mean, I ’d go 
with you.” 


grandpa's house. 


95 


“ I ain’t mean,” said Katy. “ Grandma 
said you was to come another time, and 
that means most right away ; and we ’ll 
have fruit-cake and ice-cream, maybe.” 

“ Well ! ” said Marion, pleased with this 
prospect, “ then let ’s go to Laura’s now.” 

So they ran down toward the river road, 
where Laura lived, and made up friends 
again on the way. 

The short November afternoon was 
turning to gray twilight as they went in 
at the gate; and very much astonished 
was Mrs. Kendall when she opened the 
door and found these two midges all alone 
on the steps. “ Why, Katy Stuart ! ” she 
said, “ is anybody sick ? ” 

“No, ma’am,” said Katy. “ We ’ve come 
to stay to tea, with Laura.” 

“ Oh, you have ! have you ? ” said Mrs. 
Kendall, doubtfully. “Well! run in and 
I ’]1 see about it.” 

In the sitting-room they found Laura, 
a pale little girl, who had always been sick 
a great deal, and who was glad to see them. 
After seeing how pleased Laura was, Mrs. 
Kendall told the children, “ I guess you 


96 


grandpa’s house. 


can stay, little ones,” and then started off 
to the kitchen, from whence there came, 
by and by, a delicious smell of short-cake. 

“ There ! did n’t I tell you so ? ” said 
Katy, who had at first felt almost angry 
that anybody should hesitate about having 
her stay to tea. “ I knew we should have 
short-cake.” 

Laura set the table, and presently Mr. 
Kendall came in — a great big man, who 
had a romp with the children at once, and 
tickled Katy, till she almost choked to 
death, laughing. Then tea came, and as 
Katy was the smallest one there, Laura’s 
high-chair was brought down and Katy 
seated in it. With a cup of real tea before 
her, hot buttered short-cake on her plate, 
and fresh gingerbread in prospect — lost 
in happiness, she forgot all her troubles, 
and grandma too. 

And now let us see what grandma was 
doing. Katy had always been out-of-doors 
so much that she thought very little about 
her, till the day was almost ending. Then, 
fearing the child might take cold, she went 
first to the front door and then to the back, 
calling “ Katy ! Katy ! ” 


grandpa’s house. 


97 


No Katy answered, and grandma, who 
thought she must be in at Mrs. Lawrence’s, 
after waiting awhile, walked round to the 
gate, between, and went in, only to learn, 
much to her astonishment, that Katy 
had n’t been there since early afternoon. 

" Where can she be ? ” thought grandma, 
quite frightened and not knowing what to 
do — until hearing the sound of wheels, 
she went out to the back gate to see 
grandpa, who had been in Cornish all day 
and just then got home. 

“ Have you seen Katy anywhere ? ” asked 
grandma, anxiously. “ She is n’t to be 
found high nor low.” 

“ She is down in the meadow, I dare 
say,” said grandpa. “ Don’t be worried ; 
I ’ll go and see ” 

While he was gone, grandma walked 
about the place, and then into the house 
and all over it, calling “ Katy ! Katy ! ” 
but Katy was not within hearing. 

Grandpa came up from the meadow, 
looking troubled, and asked, “ Have you 
found her ? ” 

When grandma answered “ No,” he 

7 


98 


grandpa’s house. 


stood still a minute, thinking, and then 
said, “ She must have run away, though 
she never did such a thing before. Where 
can she be ? I hope she has n’t gone to 
the river.” 

Then grandma began to cry. “ Oh, Ed- 
ward! suppose she has fallen in and no- 
body to pull her out.” 

“ Come, come, wife ! ” said grandpa, “ you 
must n’t think of such a thing. Of 
course she never would go to the river. 
She is at some of the little girls’ houses.” 

u Sure enough ! ” said grandma. a Why 
did n’t I think ? She wanted that little 
Marion Morton up here, and I told her 
‘ no.’ ” 

“ Then she went there, depend upon it, 
and I ’ll have her home in no time.” And 
poor grandpa took his cane and hurried 
down the steps, fast as rheumatism would 
let him, while grandma sat in her room 
and waited. 

No Katy at the Mortons’, but Mrs. 
Morton much surprised that she had come 
for Marion without permission, and dis- 
posed to call her a very bad little girl. 


grandpa’s house. 


99 


Then she was frightened about Marion, 
and sent Bridget, the nurse, all over to 
look for her. 

Bridget followed close behind grandpa, 
wringing her hands and sobbing, " Oh the 
day, the day, the day ! ” 

Grandpa walked on, thinking where to 
look next, going down toward the river, 
until he met old Mr. Burbanks coining up. 
" I ’m looking for my little grandchild, Mr. 
B.,” said he — "little Katy Stuart. You 
have n’t seen any thing of her, have you ? ” 

" Why, yes,” said Mr. Burbanks, who 
lived right opposite the Kendalls, — “yes, 
come to think, I saw her going in at the 
Kendalls’ gate, two or three hours ago — 
she and another little gal.” 

" Thank you,” said grandpa ; and think- 
ing to himself, — " This is queer work for 
Katy,” he hurried on and rapped at the 
Kendalls’ door. 

“ Well now, to be sure ! ” said Mrs. Ken- 
dall, “ I ’m glad you ’ve come after Katy, 
Squire, for it ’s getting late for her. Come 
in and have a cup of tea ; ” and grandpa, 
walking into the supper-room, saw the 


100 


grandpa’s house. 


sight I have told you of, — Katy, with her 
real tea and her short-cake. 

On seeing grandpa standing in the door, 
Katy immediately began to cry so loud 
that Mr. Kendall dropped his cup and 
spilt the hot tea over his legs. " What on 
airth ! ” he cried, jumping up — “ what on 
airth is the matter ? ” 

Grandpa could n’t help smiling, do what 
he would, as he answered, — “ Katy ’s been 
a naughty girl and run away, neighbor 
Kendall. Her grandmother and all of us 
have been very much frightened about 
her,” 

Bridget had pounced on Marion, and was 
busy now putting on her sack, scolding 
between each button. 

"Well, if ever I did ! ” said Mrs. Ken- 
dall. “ Did n’t anybody know where either 
of ’em was ? ” 

“ No, ma’am ; we ’ve been looking for 
Katy nearly an hour. I’ll tell you all 
about it to-morrow, but now I must hurry 
Katy home, for her grandmother is very 
anxious about her.” And grandpa, taking 
Katy’s hand, walked up the hill, fast as her 


grandpa’s house. 101 

little legs could carry her, and spoke not 
a word on the way. 

Grandma was in the door and about to 
hug Katy as they came up, so glad was 
she to see the lost child safe and sound. 
But grandpa said, “ No ; she ’s a very 
naughty girl, and can’t be kissed.” 

He led her into their room, and seated 
her in his great chair. “ There ! ” said he; 
“feet that can’t stay in the right place 
any better than these, must be tied up.” 

Out of the string-bag came a long cord, 
with which grandpa tied those two small 
balmorals together ; and then he sat down 
with a little twinkle in his eyes, as Katy 
stuck them straight out before her and 
looked at them solemnly, trying not to cry. 

Her punishment had hardly lasted five 
minutes, when mamma, Aunt Katy, and 
Rob came in, cold and forlorn, after 
their bleak ride. Then Katy did cry, sure 
enough — for never was any one more 
astonished than mamma, when she heard 
the story. And Rob went dancing round 
the great chair, pretending a little wild 
girl was fastened there, who had just been 


102 


grandpa’s house. 


caught in the woods, and might bite if 
he came too near. 

Poor Katy ! She was untied presently 
and taken to bed ; and after she had been 
undressed and said her little prayer, she 
put her arms around mamma’s neck and 
had her cry all out. “ Truly, surely ! I 
never will do so again,” she sobbed. 

“ I hope you never will,” answered 
mamma. “We cannot trust you away 
from our sight, if you do ; and I am afraid 
grandpa and grandma will always be 
troubled after this, when you are out alone. 
Think how badly you made poor grandma 
feel, this afternoon.” 

“ I ’ll promise not to, ever any more,” 
cried Katy, “ and I don’t break promises.” 

“ Well ! ” said mamma, “ I think you are 
a good little girl, about that.” And so Katy, 
quite comforted, was soon fast asleep. 

Next morning she told grandpa and 
grandma she was ever so sorry, and would 
never do so again. And I truly do not 
think she ever did. As for Mrs. Morton, 
she soon forgot all about the runaway; 
and when Marion was really asked to tea, 
at Grandpa’s House, let her go at once. 


CHAPTER VII. 


It was Wednesday afternoon, and what 
do yon think they were doing in Miss 
Owens’ school ? Every girl there was 
making patch-work, just as fast as she 
could — not cunning little pieces, put 
together in star pattern or rising-sun 
pattern, with tiny, overhand stitches, but 
great squares, run together with coarse 
thread. Even Katy had her pieces, and 
was knotting her thread and breaking her 
needle and losing her thimble, just as 
every little girl has done, in learning to 
sew, since the world began. The boys, 
poor fellows, could n’t sew, because boys 
don’t know enough • but they could scrape 
lint, and so they all had out their jack- 
knives, scraping away, trying who should 
get the most done — just as the girls were 
trying who should sew the most pieces. 
Miss Owens sat in her great chair, reading 
aloud a Swiss Family Robinson,” — stop- 


104 


grandpa’s house. 


ping now and then to walk down among 
the girls and see how the work came on. 

Now, where were the spelling-books ? 
Why were n’t the children saying the 
Multiplication Table'? And was n’t this 
a queer sort of school — and a queerer 
teacher ? 

Not at all. This patch-work was soon 
to be put together in warm quilts for 
the sick soldiers in hospital ; and the lint 
would help to make their poor wounds 
ache a little less. Working in the trenches 
before Vicksburg had filled the hospitals 
with sick men; and now, as Thanksgiv- 
ing was coming on, every family almost 
meant to send them a box or barrel. And 
the well soldiers were not to be forgotten 
either. 

School was to be out at half-past two, 
and then Katy’s special friends among the 
boys and girls were going home with her 
to Grandpa’s House. There, three sets of 
quilting-frames stood in three different 
rooms, and the ladies who belonged to the 
Soldiers’ Aid Society would finish up to- 
day, not only the quilts, but lots of warm 


grandpa’s house. 105 

shirts and drawers beside, for this was the 
last working day before Thanksgiving. 

The children did not generally go to the 
Soldiers’ Aid Meetings, but this, as I have 
said, was to be the last one for some time. 
Then, as vacation began on Saturday, and 
Katy would see but little more of the boys 
and girls through the winter, she begged 
that they might come “just once,” and 
that it might be “ everybody’s meeting ” 
to-day. And grandma said u Yes, if they 
would all play in the garret, and not 
trouble anybody at work down-stairs.” 

Mamma promised to keep an eye on 
the children; though how she was to do 
it and run the sewing-machine all the 
time, I don’t know. 

So in the afternoon nearly a dozen 
children came trooping in at the back 
gate. And Miss Temperance Perkins, — 
Lucy’s aunt, — who sat by the window, 
turning hems, shut her lips very tight and 
looked severe when she saw them. “ She 
would n’t have such doings, she was sure, 
at a sewing-meeting ; children running 
round in everybody’s way. Mrs. Stuart 


106 


grandpa’s house. 


acted just as if the whole world was made 
for children. She guessed she ’d find, when 
Katy got older, that she could n’t do any 
thing with her.” 

All this was said in a sharp whisper, to 
old Aunt Patty Simmons, who was knit- 
ting a blue yanr' stocking. Aunt Patty 
being very deaf, did n’t understand Miss 
Tempy, and only said, “ Yes, dear ; it ’s a 
mercy we can all do something.” 

At this, Miss Tempy spoke up very loud, 
“What a pity it is you do get so deaf, 
Aunt Patty.” 

“ All the better,” answered Aunt Patty. 
“ I don’t hear slander and back-bitin’ near 
as much as I used to ; so it ’s all for the 
best, I guess.” 

Miss Tempy drew herself up a moment, 
but Aunt Patty sat so quietly, it could n’t 
have been that she meant any thing to be 
offended at, and so the hems went on 
again. 

When the children’s things were off and 
laid on Katy’s bed, the whole party ran 
up-stairs to the garret, where they were 
to play until it became too cold, in the 


grandpa’s house. 


107 


evening; then they would go down to 
Nancy, in the kitchen, and she was to give 
them their supper on the long ironing- 
table ; while grandma, mamma, and Aunt 
Katy, cared for the older people in the 
dining-room. Spencer Hall — who had n’t 
gone back to New York yet — and Johnny 
Adams, at once began a search through all 
the queer rooms and closets for curiosities ; 
coming out from unexpected places, every 
now and then, all over dust, and going 
back into more corners full of cobwebs 
before anybody had a chance to brush 
them. Katy brought up all her dolls 
for the girls to play with. And Laura 
Kendall found an old-fashioned greea silk 
hood, which she drew on over her head, 
like a chaise-top, saying she was a hundred 
years old and must n’t be spoken to nor 
touched. 

Spencer Hall came out from somewhere, 
wearing an old blue coat with brass but- 
tons ; followed by J ohnny, with a pair of 
spurs and a rusty sword. They pretended 
they were Ethan Allen and General Stark, 
and were having a dreadful fight with the 


108 


grandpa’s house. 


Indians. The Indians were two broom- 
sticks at first, but afterward Rob and Peter 
Perkins made savages of themselves, by 
painting their faces with red and blue, 
from Katy’s paint-box, and sticking turkey 
feathers in their hair. When they came 
rushing and howling to the fray, there was 
such a terrible racket that the little girls 
thought they ought to be frightened, so 
they ran off to the furthest corner of the 
garret. Then the Indians laid a plan to 
steal Fanny, and shut her up in the smoke- 
closet, where all the hams were hanging, 
until Ethan Allen and General Stark 
would make a treaty of peace. And to 
keep the fierce fellows from making a pris- 
oner of Fanny, the girls had Katy creep 
down-stairs with her to a place of safety. 

Katy and Fanny walked along the 
upper hall till they came to the North 
chamber door, which stood wide open. 
Looking in, they saw such an array of 
bonnets on the bed, they could n’t help 
going in for a nearer view. Fanny knew 
just whose they were, and they walked 
around the bed, touching the brightest 


grandpa’s house. 


109 


strings, and wishing they could wear bon- 
nets, too. “ Let’s try some of ’em on,” said 
Katy. “ You get a chair and I ’ll get a 
chair, and we ’ll both stand up before the 
glass and see which looks the best.” 

“ Somebody ’ll come,” said Fanny. 

“ No, they won’t,” answered Katy. 
“ They ’re every one sewing ; and be- 
sides, they would n’t care, either.” 

So the chairs were put before the old 
mirror, and Fanny brought a lot of the 
bonnets to the toilet table. Then the two 
climbed up and tried them on, beginning 
with poor Aunt Patty Simmons’ black coal- 
scuttle. 

By and by they came to a very fine one 
— blue silk, with a dozen red roses inside 
and out ; for, in those days, the bonnets 
stood up ever so far above the forehead, 
and were sometimes covered with flowers, 
clear to the top. 

“ Whose is that ? ” said Katy. 

s ‘ Why, it ’s Miss Tempy Perkins’, to be 
sure. Don’t you know how she sits up in 
church, with that biggest rose standing 
right up straight — so,” and Fanny held 
up her head, very high and stiff. 


110 grandpa’s house. 

“ Oh, let me put it on,” said Kat y. F anny 
handed it to her and turned to another, 
while Katy tied the blue strings under her 
chin. She was just admiring herself in 
the glass, when suddenly she was seized 
by the shoulder. 

“ Pretty doings, I do think,” said a sharp 
voice. “ This is the way you go on when 
you are left alone, is it ? Now you come 
right down-stairs to your mother.” 

Katy was dragged off down to the 
South parlor, where her mother looked up 
in astonishment as Miss Tempy pushed 
her in and sat her down so hard that the 
red roses danced. 

“ What does this mean ? ” said mamma. 

Lucy Perkins came out from behind her 
aunt. “ Katy and Fanny ran away from 
us,” said she, “and I thought they was 
dreadful still, so I came down and looked 
in all the rooms, and there they was 
a-tryin’ on bunnits; and when they both 
put on Aunt Tempy’s, I jest run and told 
her.” 

Quite a stir went through the room as 
Lucy spoke. Trying on all those bonnets ? 



fm, 








grandpa’s house. 


Ill 


What might not have happened to them ? 
— and two or three old ladies went up 
to look. 

“ Why, Katy, how could you do so ? ” 
said mamma. “ I thought I could trust 
you alone.” 

u Trust her ? ” sniffed Miss Tempy. “ I 
guess it ’s the last time I come into this 
house, if you have such goings on and 
don’t give her a good spanking.” 

“ Don’t be too fierce, Tempy,” spoke up 
old Aunt Patty. “ When you was a little 
gal, — forty year ago and more, — I was 
to a parin’ bee, at your father’s house, and 
you cut the yaller strings off my best 
bunnit, ’cause you wanted ’em for a pin- 
cushion. Yes, and what ’s more, you hid 
’em, and your mother could n’t make you 
give ’em up, either. What you once got 
hold on, Tempy, you was alius sure to 
hold tight to, — and that was the end o’ 
my yaller strings. Yaller was very be- 
comin’ to me.” And Aunt Patty sighed a 
little, as she walked back to the window- 
seat. 

Miss Tempy turned very red as she took 


112 


grandpa’s house. 


her bonnet from Katy and put it on, stalk- 
ing toward the door. “ I ’ve done about 
all I ’m going to do to-day, for soldiers or 
anybody else, if this is the way I ’m to be 
treated.” 

“ Don’t go, I beg of you,” said mamma, 
getting up and going to her. “ I ’m very 
sorry this has happened, and Katy is 
sorry, too, I ’m sure ; are n’t you, Katy ? ” 

“Yes, mamma,” said Katy, “I’m real 
sorry. Please to don’t be angry, Miss 
Perkins.” 

Miss Perkins felt very sour at first, but 
when grandma and Aunt Katy apologized, 
too, and asked her to stay, she finally con- 
sented and came back. 

Katy was put in one window-seat and 
Fanny in another, and both told they must 
sit very still, for twenty minutes. Katy 
first looked out of the window, where she 
could see nothing but trees, and then at 
the quilt, which two ladies were marking 
with a piece of string rubbed with chalk. 
After stretching the string tightly across 
the quilt they snapped it in the middle, 
leaving a nice white line, to show where 
the stitches should go. Then she looked 


grandpa's house. 


113 


under the quilt and thought how nicely 
she could keep house there ; and wondered 
if she could stand up straight under there, 
feeling almost sure she could. 

When the twenty minutes were over, 
Fanny raced up-stairs to tell the other 
children the whole story. But Katy, for- 
getting all about her company, stood still 
a moment looking at the quilt. Then, 
slipping down behind a chair, when nobody 
saw her, she crawled quietly under the 
frames. It was certainly very queer to be 
under there — nobody knowing any thing 
about it — and hear the scissors snip off 
threads, and the thimbles click as the 
needles pushed up through the thick 
cotton. 

Pretty soon, Katy began to be tired of 
crouching on the floor and began to rise 
up : first to her knees ; then a little higher 
and a little higher ; until — quite sure she 
could stand up straight — she raised her 
head. Bump it came, against the quilt, 
and away went the spools — and — “ Gra- 
cious goodness, what ’s that ? ” said one of 
the ladies. 

s 


114 


grandpa’s house. 


Katy dropped like a shot, whisked out 
between the chairs, and ran as if Miss 
Tempy were after her. 

“ One o’ them children,” said Aunt Patty. 
“ I did n’t jest see which one.” 

“ I did,” thought mamma, but she said 
never a word, as she arose, smiling all to 
herself, and went to see about tea. Mamma 
remembered how she felt in her own child 
days, better than Miss Perkins did, and 
Katy never was scolded for getting under 
the quilt. 

“ You ’re a nice one now, ain’t you, 
Katy Stuart ? ” said Spencer Hall, as Katy, 
with red cheeks and shining eyes, sprang 
up the old stairs. “ Guess I ’ll go off and 
leave you, when you come to see me. 
Ain’t we never going to have supper ? I ’ve 
eaten two whole Indians and the soles of 
my boots, and ’taint half enough.” 

“ Oh, you have, have you ? ” shouted Rob, 
suddenly rising up from a corner. “ You 
’re the feller that eats up Indians, are 
you ? You just come on now and try it, 
that ’sail!” 

Then there was another tumbling and 


grandpa’s house. 


115 


screaming time, which lasted till old 
Nancy’s voice was heard at the foot of the 
stairs — “ If these young uns ain’t the 
noisiest set. You Katy Stuart ! come right 
along now — and every one with you. 
Your tea ’s ready.” 

Slam-bang went the four boys down the 
stairs and the girls after them, almost as 
bad I ’m afraid — and bang again down 
the back stairs, into the kitchen, where 
the great ironing-table stood. 

It was a rule at the. soldiers’ aid meet- 
ings to have only bread and butter, tea 
and coffee, and one kind of cake, so that 
no one would feel it a great expense to 
have the meetings at their house. But 
Nancy said the children were different, 
they ought to have more — thinking in 
her own mind that nothing could be too 
good for Katy and Rob, though Katy 
came first. So Nancy had her own way ; 
and while Joanna, the other girl, handed 
round bread and butter and cup cake to 
the big people, ten little sinners in the 
kitchen had “ sandwidges,” as good as Peter 
Perkins’, and milk, and snaps, and charm- 


116 


grandpa’s house. 


mg hearts and rounds. Nancy’s shining 
black face was one great grin as she 
waited on them ; though, having heard of 
the bonnet business, she tried to look very 
solemn whenever Katy’s eyes turned her 
way. 

When supper was over, the ten crowded 
on to the wooden settle, near the old 
chimney; while Nancy packed a basket 
for Aunt Patty Simmons, who never went 
away from Grandpa’s House without tak- 
ing something good. Miss Tempy came 
to the door and called Peter and Lucy, 
and looked as though she thought they 
were having better times than herself. 

When they were gone, Johnny Adams 
jumped up and walked clear across the 
kitchen floor, on his hands. “ Pete, I can 
stand,” said Johnny ; “but that Lucy, with 
her red head and her sneaking ways — 
she ’ll be just as bad as old Temp when 
she gets grown up.” 

“ Who is ‘ old Temp ? ’ ” said a voice in 
the hall. And Spencer Hall, who had 
been preparing to stand on his head, sat 
down again briskly to hear what was com- 
ing. 


grandpa’s house. 


117 


“Old Temp Perkins,” said Johnny. “I 
hate her. She is always scolding, and 
snooping and sneaking round ! And 
Lucy ’s just like her ! I don’t see what 
Katy wants to have her here for, any way.” 

“ I don’t like Lucy, myself, - ” said grandpa, 
coming in and sitting down among them. 
“I’m very sure I don’t like Miss Temper- 
ance, but I ’m very sorry for her, so sorry 
that I ’m quite as much inclined to treat 
her well as if I did like her.” 

“ Well now, how ’s that ? ” asked Spencer 
Hall. “ What makes you so sorry for 
her ? ” 

“Because she has always had an un- 
happy, fault-finding temper, for one thing,” 
said grandpa. “She can’t look on the 
bright side of things ; and then, she has 
nobody to love her dearly.” 

“She does n’t deserve to be loved,” said 
Johnny. 

“ Don’t say that about anybody,” said 
grandpa, very seriously. “Nobody knows 
what Miss Tempy might have been, if, all 
through her childhood and after-life, people 
had been tender and gentle with her. 


118 


grandpa’s house. 


Instead of that, she was the oldest of a 
large family ; and her father, who was a 
drinking, swearing, violent man, treated 
her like a brute. He repented it after- 
ward when she nursed him through his 
last dreadful sickness — day after day and 
night after night, until he died. She has 
had a hard life of it, all the way through, 
and though she may be cross and disa- 
greeable now, you little ones, who are hap- 
pier than she has ever been, must try not 
to say ugly things about her, but be as 
patient with her as you can. Now, what 
do you suppose I came out here for ? ” 

“ To give it to me, for being hateful,” 
said Johnny. 

“ To tell us a story,” said Eob. 

“ Once more ; and then, if it is n’t right. 
I ’m very much afraid I shall have to use 
them all, myself.” 

“ Use what, sir ? ” asked Spencer ; but 
Eob had caught sight of something stick- 
ing out from grandpa’s pocket, and shout- 
ed, “ I know ! I know ! It ’s straws ! We ’re 
all going to suck cider together.” 

“ Straws ? ” said grandpa, looking very 


grandpa's house. 


119 


innocent, “ I don’t see any straws. Seems 
to me though, now I think of it, I did 
have one or two in my pocket. Why, 
where can they be ? ” And while Eob held 
the straws behind him, grandpa shook his 
coat-tails and danced about, as if trying 
to make them fall out from somewhere ; 
and then, when Eob was n’t expecting it 
in the least, rushed at him and turned 
him up-side-down. But Eob held on tight 
to his straws, and as soon as he had got 
his wits together again, passed them round 
to all the children. Meantime, Nancy had 
lighted a lamp and opened the cellar door ; 
and everybody scrambled down as fast as 
the darkness w r ould let them. 

What a cavernous old place it was ! 
Half-a-dozen different rooms, — w T hat for 
nobody could tell ; bins on bins of apples 
and potatoes ; and five cider barrels, all 
in a row, behind w r hich Johnny and Spen- 
cer presently disappeared. Mamma came 
down for a minute and took a straw, say- 
ing she was going to be a little girl too ; 
and grandpa sat down on the cellar-stairs, 
and took her on his lap and rocked her, 


120 


grandpa’s house. 


singing “ Hush a-by, baby, on the tree top.” 
Mamma laughed and said it was ridiculous, 
and grandpa might a good deal better be 
packing the barrels for the soldiers ; and 
everybody had n’t gone yet, and what 
would they think? 

Grandpa said she had better run right 
up-stairs and find out ; and he would suck 
some more cider with the children. 

But the children had had about enough, 
so all went up-stairs together and sat down 
on the old settle. By and by grandma 
came out, and then Aunt Katy ; and after 
the company had all gone, mamma came 
back; so then, everybody in Grandpa’s 
House was in the old kitchen, round the 
fire. 

Katy had snuggled down at grandpa’s 
feet, so comfortable she was almost asleep. 

“ Come, come ! ” said grandpa. “ Every 
one of these children must go home. It ’s 
almost half-past seven o’clock, and that ’s 
Katy’s bed-time, you know.” 

“ Oh dear ! I do wish I did not have to 
go to bed,” sighed Katy. 

“ Boo, boo-oo ! ” came in a voice from 


grandpa’s house. 


121 


outside ; and two fiery eyes glared in at 
each of the windows. Katy saw two tre- 
mendous heads, with wide-open, flaming 
mouths and these dreadful eyes, and oh, 
how frightened she was ! All the little 
girls began to scream, and then Katy was 
frightened all the more and cried right 
out. 

“ Don’t cry ! ” said grandpa. “ Don’t 
you know what they are ? ” 

The door suddenly opened, and the two 
monsters rushed in. Unluckily though, 
they were in such a hurry to eat every- 
body up that they upset each other ; and 
all at once the fiery eyes and the frightful 
noses and flaming mouths turned into two 
pumpkins, rolling about, and two pieces of 
candle, dripping tallow on the nice white 
floor, and Johnny Adams and Spencer 
Hall, picking themselves up, looking 
sheepish. 

“ Oh,” groaned Katy, “ I thought they 
was fairies, come because I ’d been a-wish- 
ing. Do take me to bed, please mamma. 
I don’t want to have company any longer.” 

“ Sit up and say good-night, first,” said 
mamma. 


122 


grandpa’s house. 


So Katy kissed the little girls, and grand- 
pa put her into mamma’s lap and then 
started to take the other children home. 
Fanny lived next door, you know, and 
Julia and Mary Otis at the foot of the 
hill ; so grandpa was soon back again. 

Everybody was now in the South 
parlor ; Patty sitting up a little longer, 
because she had been frightened, and con- 
cluded that after all she did not want to 
go to bed just yet. Mamma sat at the 
piano and played and sang "The Frog 
who would a-wooing go,” and “ Three 
blind Mice,” and more songs, for Katy and 
Rob. As she played on, she forgot all 
about them, and sang " The Mistletoe 
Bough,” and “ Auld Robin Gray,” and 
then “ The Land o’ the Leal.” 

There was no lamp in the parlor, and 
the fire-light sent long shadows dancing 
up and down the wall. Mamma’s voice 
went on softer and sweeter, and then 
ceased, — and the room was very still. 
Grandpa lay in his great arm-chair with 
closed eyes, holding grandma’s hand, and 
went back, years and years, until he 


grandpa’s house. 


123 


thought he was young again. Rob, curled 
up in his mother’s lap, and Katy, with her 
little brown head resting against the old 
sofa, were very still too. They were both 
in dreamland, — that pleasant land where 
old people and children are young alike. 
Let us leave them there, now, for sweeter 
sleep will never come to Katy, and if the 
soldier papa, far away to-night, could see 
her now, he would only whisper “ Good- 
night, little daughter,” and bless her sweet 
face as he laid it on her pillow. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Winter was coming on, surely. All day 
Tim raked up dead leaves, piled them into 
the wheelbarrow, and with Rob or Katy 
perched on each load, wheeled them round 
the long paths, up to the cellar windows. 
Then he made a bank of the leaves and 
packed them down tightly against the 
house, so that Jack Frost could not come 
in and nip the apples and potatoes in 
grandpa’s cellar. Grandma brought out 
balls of listing and tacked strips around 
all the doors; the double-windows were 
put in ; the wood-house was running over 
with piles of nicely split wood, and the 
fire-light danced on the polished andirons. 
Then came the first snow — white and 
still. And then — all at once — where 
had the winter gone ? 

Surely, that was a bluebird in the ap- 
ple-tree. And the daffodils — was it really 


grandpa’s house. 


125 


time to look for daffodils? Yes, — there 
they were, their little green heads just 
peeking through the ground, in the flow- 
er beds on the south side of the house. 
The winter was gone again, and all Katy 
could remember of it was a jumble of 
sled-rides and sleigh-rides ; long plays with 
her dolls and with Rob, in the old rooms ; 
candy parties and sticky door-knobs ; and 
grandpa’s stories by the fire-side in the 
evening. And here it was, the last of 
March already, and the first of April would 
bring school-days once more. 

Having no brothers nor sisters, Katy had 
been a lonely little girl until Rob came — 
and this was the reason why such a wee 
thing had been going to school ; mamma 
thinking it very needful that she should 
be with children of her own age. Katy 
was much more fond of playing than of 
spelling, which was just as it should be ; 
and Miss Owens was very willing to keep 
her in words of three letters, and give 
her a recess every hour. Not having such 
hard times, going to school, as some of us 
did when we were little ones, Katy en- 


126 


grandpa’s house. 


joyed it much, and had missed it a good 
deal during the winter, when there were 
many days that she had to stay at home. 
Rob went every day, storm or shine, and 
wore out, nobody knows how many pairs 
of red mittens, not to say any thing about 
the cow-hide boots. In pleasant weather, 
when the snow was firm and hard, he 
drew Katy on his sled; and then some- 
times she coasted down the school-house 
hill, growing bold enough at last to go 
down all alone, which was thought by the 
little girls to be a very fine and unusual 
thing to do. 

Now the snow was almost gone, and on 
this particular day of early spring about 
which I mean to tell you, Katy stood in 
the back-yard, near the wood-house, pull- 
ing on her mittens and watching Rob, 
whom she could see through the window 
of grandma’s room, as he jerked his arms 
into the sleeves of his overcoat, which 
was now most too small for him. The sun 
was shining brightly on the patches of 
snow in the fence corners ; and about the 
old well, were just the faintest signs of 


grandpa’s house. 


127 


green grass. In the barn was heard a 
great stamping, as the two horses were 
brought out and hitched up to the farm- 
wagon which stood before the barn door. 
“ Hurry, Rob ! ” called Katy. “ Grandpa ’s 
most ready.” 

Out tumbled Rob, coming down all 
three of the back steps at one jump, wdiile 
mamma and Aunt Katy followed more 
slowly; and then Fanny Lawrence came 
round the corner, with Johnny Adams for 
company. What were they all going to 
do? Tim brought out great armsful of 
hay and filled the body of the wagon ; 
and then grandpa handed in mamma and 
Aunt Katy with as much grace as if he 
were going with them to a ball. Then the 
children all piled in and — would you 
believe it ? — everybody sat right down 
on the bottom of the wagon, except 
grandpa, who had a little seat in front. 
After they were all in, he chirruped to 
the horses, and off they went, through the 
village, down to the river road, stopping 
a moment for Laura Kendall, and then on, 
to the long bridge, where the toll-keeper 


128 


grandpa’s house. 


stared a little as he said “ Good-day, 
Squire ! Goin’ to the sugar-bush ? ” 

Grandpa nodded and drove on, up the 
hill from the river, coming to a meadow 
filled with gray ledges of rock, through 
which a road wound up into the woods 
beyond. Grandpa jumped out, took down 
a pair of bars and led the horses through, 
and bumpity-bump went the wagon over 
the stones, across the field up to the woods, 
and there stopped. 

“ Here we are,” said grandpa. “ Now, 
children, out with you, and we ’ll walk up 
to the sugar-house.” 

" The sugar-house ? ” said Katy. " You 
called it the ‘sugar-toA,’ grandpa.” 

“ You ’re in the sugar-bush, now. That ’s 
the sugar-house, up there, where you see 
the smoke.” 

" Why, there is n’t a single bush here,” 
persisted Katy — “ nothing but lots of 
trees.” 

"Well, that ’s the bush,” smiled grandpa. 
" Wherever there is a grove of maple 
trees large enough for tapping, the farm- 
ers call it a ‘ sugar-bush.’ ” 


grandpa’s house. 


129 


“ What is ‘ tapping ? ’ ” asked Rob. 

“ Why, I thought you and Katy knew all 
about maple-sugar making,” said grandpa. 

“ W ell, I thought,” said Katy, “ when 
you told us we were coming to the sugar- 
bush, you meant a bush with sugar on it, 
and we could have all we wanted.” 

If Johnny Adams had heard this, Katy 
would have seen no peace the rest of that 
day, but luckily he had run on with Rob, 
so there was no one to laugh at her. As 
grandpa told her all about sugar-making, 
they walked on through the woods, till 
suddenly they came out into some cleared 
land, with a log house in the middle. Tall 
trees stood all about, each having a wooden 
bucket at the foot, into which the sap was 
dripping from the end of a little wooden 
trough — drop by drop from some trees, 
and a steady little stream from others. 
Further up the hill Katy saw a sled drawn 
by oxen, on which was a great hogshead, 
where the man who drove the oxen 
seemed to be emptying the sap-buckets. 
Mamma, who had gone on to the log house, 
was talking with some one inside, and 


130 


grandpa’s house. 


Katy ran over there and looked in. A 
long, low. brick furnace stood in the mid- 
dle of the hotise, in front of which sat a 
man on a wooden stool, feeding the fire. 
On the furnace stood two immense iron 
kettles, filled with sap, boiling steadily. 
The very essence of maple-sugar was in 
the air, and Katy must have looked at the 
man quite wishfully, for he laughed and 
said, — " You jest wait awhile, little gal, 
and you ’ll get all you want.” 

Katy heard Fanny calling, and ran out, 
to find the man with the ox-sled coming 
down toward the sugar-house, and all the 
children running after him — Johnny and 
Bob tipping up the emptied sap-buckets, 
to drink the last sweet drops. "Is it 
good ? ” asked Katy. 

"I bet,” answered Johnny. "You just 
try.” 

Katy put her head down to a full 
bucket, and raised it presently, looking 
very comfortable. " Oh, I should think it 
was good ! Why don’t we have it all the 
time ? ” 

" The trees would die, if you did,” said 


grandpa’s house. 


131 


the man. “ It only runs so long, and. then 
you have to stop tappin’ and wait till next 
year. I ’m goin’ to empty this load, now, 
and then I ’ll give you a ride on the sled 
to the next batch of trees.” 

Jip, who I had forgotten to tell you was 
with them, began barking furiously, in 
the woods, and Rob and Johnny dashed 
off to find him, sure he had got a wood- 
chuck. The girls walked on after the 
sled • saw the freshly filled buckets emptied 
into the barrel; drank all the sap they 
could, and went to look for trailing-arbu- 
tus, but found only one tiny spray. Then 
they rode back again to the sugar-house, 
finding Johnny and Rob there, with scal- 
loped patty-pans in their hands, very busy 
about a great lump of frozen snow ; while 
mamma and Aunt Katy seemed to be hav- 
ing a good time with another lump. 

“ What are you doing, Rob ? ” called 
Katy. 

“ Eating mabuble cagndy,” gobbled Rob, 
with his mouth full — and eyes and nose, 
too, for that matter, for such a sticky boy 
never was seen. 


132 


grandpa’s house. 


“ Why, you do it just like molasses 
candy, don’t you ? ” said Katy — watching 
Johnny as he poured the hot syrup from 
the patty-pan on to the snow, when it 
spread out and sunk in and curled up 
on the edges, and all at once became a 
crisp, delicious mouthful. The man at the 
furnace, who was, so Rob said, one of 
grandma’s third cousins, had a large patty- 
pan ready for Katy, and Johnny Adams 
brought her a fresh lump of snow. The 
little girls ate maple candy until the man 
said there ’d have to be a new sugar-bush 
set out and a bigger kettle bought and a 
new man hired to tend it, for, as for him, 
he was tired of ladling out the best of the 
syrup into little pans, and then seeing it 
go down a set of children’s throats, — so 
he was. 

Then grandpa came walking in from 
ever so far up on the hills, and mamma 
opened a basket which turned out to be 
full of bread and butter; and grandpa, 
sitting down, ate slices dipped in the hot 
sugar, and between times Katy gave him 
what she called “ lovely gobs ” of maple 


grandpa’s house. 


133 


candy. At last grandpa had enough, and 
everybody else had too, — even Johnny 
Adams, who wished his pockets were lined 
with tin, so ’t he could carry home all he 
wanted. And then the children all went 
up to the top of the hill, for one more run 
down, before starting for home. 

“ How far can you jump, Johnny ? ” said 
Rob. 

“ A mile, if my legs was long enough.” 

“ You could n’t jump over that,” said 
Rob, pointing to a rock some three or four 
feet high, about half way down the hill. 

“ If I could n’t do more ’n that, I ’d 
stop doing any thing,” said Johnny, with 
great disdain. And running swiftly down, 
he cleared the rock at a bound. “ Now 
I ’ll tell you what I can do,” said he. “ I 
can jump right over that spruce,” — point- 
ing to a young tree, nine or ten feet high, 
growing almost directly under a ledge of 
rocks. 

“ Don’t you do it,” said Katy. “ You ’ll 
break your legs right off.” 

a No I won ’t, you see,” said J ohnny, who 
thought to himself he would jump right 


134 


grandpa’s house. 


on the tree, and, bending it over, swing 
himself down to the ground, as he had 
often done on young birches. So, while 
Katy and the other girls screamed 
“ Don’t ! Don’t ! ” and Dob looked on with 
open mouth, Master Johnny ran to the 
top of the ledge and gave a flying leap, 
alighting, as he had planned, near the top 
of the spruce. But the rest of his plan 
did n’t work so well by any means. In- 
stead of bending over, the spruce stood 
up, stiff and straight, hardly moving un- 
der his weight. So there he was, eight or 
nine fe'et from the ground ; no way of get- 
ting back to the ledge, and the scratchy 
branches and leaves to take his skin off, all 
the way down. Johnny began the descent, 
but found it too rasping, and stopped to 
look about him. Luckily, almost under 
the tree was a bed of soft, thick moss, 
such as may be found about rocky ledges 
all through New England. Johnny spied 
this soft carpet, and grandpa came up just 
just in time to see him swing off and drop 
on it. 

“ Now he ’s dead ; oh, suz me ! Now he ’s 


grandpa’s house. 135 

dead ! ” screamed Katy, cramming her red 
mittens into her eyes. 

"No such a thing,” called Johnny, pick- 
ing himself up — really very thankful to 
be safely on solid ground again, but mak- 
ing believe it was a very common thing 
with him and looking very much surprised 
that anybody should think it was n’t. 
" Ain’t you a little goose, Katy Stuart ? I 
could jump ever so much farther if I was 
a mind to.” 

"We ’ll try you on the big elm, to-mor- 
row, Johnny,” said grandpa, " and any of 
the butternuts that are tall enough to 
siit ; but just now, ’ t is time to go home.” 

So they all walked back to the farm 
TOgon, where the man who had been driv- 
ing the oxen was waiting, and he said he 
would drive them over ; when, to the 
delight of all the children, grandpa got 
right in with them, and somehow or other, 
he found it impossible to sit still, but 
rolled right into Laura Kendall’s lap, and 
tickled Fanny dreadfully, trying to get 
up, and pushed Katy over besides. Then 
it happened, when he did get up, Johnny 


136 


grandpa’s house. 


and Eob were right under him; and 
grandpa said he was so anxious about 
them — where could they be ? And when 
Eob came right out between his knees, 
with a very red face and hair full of hay, 
grandpa told him he was a bad boy for 
pushing Johnny out, and if he behaved so 
when he was six, what would he do when 
he was sixteen ? 

“ Act like sixty, just like his grandpa ; ” 
called out Johnny, from under the seat, 
where he had been rolled and almost 
choked in the hay. 

Mamma declared she never had seefi 
such rowdiness, and she was ashamed of 
them all. And the man on the seat laughed, 
till he could hardly hold the reins. 

When they came to the bridge, grandpa 
had the driver stop a moment, and they 
all looked down the river, which had 
broken up the day before. Great cakes I 
of ice were sweeping down the swift cur- 
rent, and piled up high against the piers 
of the bridge and on the river’s banks. 

“ The bridge will not be carried off, this 
year,” said grandpa. “ Drive on John. My 


grandpa’s house. 137 

elephant could get across, well enough to- 
day.” 

" Your elephant ? ” said all the children 
amazed ; while mamma and Aunt Katy 
laughed. 

"Yes, my elephant,” said grandpa. 
" Did n’t you know I used to own an 
elephant ? ” 

" Oh, do tell us about him ! ” 

" What did you do with him ? ” 

“ What did you buy him for ? ” 

" Where did you keep him ? ” 

" What did I do with him ? ” said 
grandpa. "I drowned him ! What did I 
buy him for ? I did n’t buy him. Where 
did I keep him ? In ice.” 

This was too much ! Johnny Adams 
shut his eyes and pretended he didn’t 
care whether he heard about it or not. 
But the little girls had their eyes just as 
wide open as could be ; and Katy said, 
" Please tell the truf, grandpa.” 

" Every word of it true, so far,” said 
grandpa. "The elephant belonged to a, 
worthless fellow, who, though he had a 
fair start in life, chose to throw it away, 


138 


grandpa’s house. 


and after trying all sorts of ways to get a 
living, spent pretty nearly his last money 
in buying this elephant and a few other 
animals to show about the country. The 
tiger and the hyena and the others died 
off, till at last there was none left but this 
elephant. I had lent the man a good 
deal of money at one time, when I had 
some hopes of him, but of course never 
expected to get it back again, and was 
astonished enough one day to hear the 
man had died and left me this elephant, 
by way of paying his debt. Mamma there, 
was a little girl at the time, and begged 
me to bring it home and put a red tower 
on it ’s back, so that she could ride, like 
the Hindoo children, in her picture-book. 

“ By and by I heard of a man in Bellows 
Falls who was getting up a menagerie and 
I went down to see him about my ele- 
phant, which he said he should be very 
glad to take. So I engaged one of his 
men to go up to Hartland for it and drive 
it down ; and went home, very glad to be 
rid of it. 

“ Well, a day or two afterward, I was in 


grandpa’s house. 


139 


the village at the post-office, as it hap- 
pened, about noon. School was just out 
and the academy boys were on their way 
home to dinner, when, all at once, there 
seemed to be quite a stir and commotion 
in the village. As I came out of the post- 
office, people were throwing up their 
windows; all the storekeepers were out 
on their steps ; and the boys were running 
down to the end of the street. I looked 
down — and there was my elephant, walk- 
ing solemnly along, tied up in an old 
blanket; for you see, the weather was 
pretty cold. Everybody in town knew it 
was my elephant, though I had n’t meant 
they should ; but mamma had told all the 
school children that I had bought her an 
elephant, to ride all the time, and of 
course the children told their fathers and 
mothers. 

"One of the boys caught sight of me 
and sung out c Hooray for Squire Gard- 
ner’s elephant ! ’ and those young scamps 
took it up and every one of them went 
roaring along, ‘ Hooray for Squire "Gard- 
ner’s elephant ! ’ 


140 


gkandpa’s house. 


" The elephant did n’t mind ; not he ! 
He stumped along toward the bridge, and 
I followed, rather curious, to see how he ’d 
get over. He made no objection to enter- 
ing the long covered way, and after watch- 
ing him a few minutes, I turned back 
toward home. 

"Suddenly I heard a shout, and then 
some boys came rushing up the hill after me. 
Laura Kendall’s father was one of them, 
and he called out, c 0, Squire Wardner, 
your elephant has broke through ! ’ 

" There was one spot in the floor of the 
bridge where a board had been broken 
and the hole poorly stopped up. In fact, 
the whole floor, just there, was weak and 
unsafe. Why it had not been mended 
properly long before, nobody could tell. 

"Walking down there fast as possible, I 
found that in going over this spot, the 
elephant had really broken through the 
floor ; his two hind legs going down among 
the trestle-work underneath. The harder 
he tried to get out, the more the flooring 
broke away, till at last he got jammed in 
among the great beams, and there seemed 


grandpa’s house. 


141 


no way of getting him out. Men came 
with ropes, and we even had ox-teams 
brought down to help the poor beast, 
but ’t was no use. He was stuck fast and 
we could n’t stir him; and what to do, 
we did n’t know. 

“ The river settled the question for us 
though, that night. The ice had broken 
up, two or three days before, and the 
heavy rains and melting snow had swollen 
the stream so that it rushed along, rising 
higher and higher every hour. 

“People were down the next morning, 
bright and early, not only to see the poor 
elephant, but to watch the bridge, which 
was likely to go off any minute. And 
about eleven o'clock the grand crash came. 
The ice had piled up above the bridge 
until it reached almost to the top of the 
piers ; and then, down came a great field 
of tremendous cakes, crashing against the 
over-burdened timbers. The middle pier 
trembled and swayed ; then there was 
one great roaring sound, and the ice, and 
the pier, and the centre of the bridge, and 
the elephant, were all down together, and 


142 


grandpa’s house. 


that was the last of him. Whether he 
was stunned and went to the bottom at 
once, or whether he struggled on, amidst 
the timbers and ice-cakes until nearly 
frozen, and then sank, I don’t know. At 
all events, he was gone ; and so ended my 
first and last experience as the owner of 
an elephant.” 

So intent were the children and the 
driver too on this story, that they had 
driven up to the barn, and all sat there, 
listening, without thinking of getting out. 
Grandma who had seen them come up, 
thought they must be crazy, or else that 
somebody was dreadfully hurt ; and, throw- 
ing a shawl over her head, came out to the 
back gate. By this time though, grandpa 
had jumped down, and as the children 
were whisked out, one after another, she 
made up her mind things were all right, 
and turned to go in again. 

“ Such a story, grandma ! ” said Katy, 
running after her. “Such a story! All 
about grandpa’s poor, dear elephant.” 

“ So, you ’ ve been telling them that, have 
you ? ” said grandma, laughing. “ Why, 


grandpa’s house. 


143 


here ’s Laura Kendall ! Why did n’t you 
let her out, on the way up ? ” 

“ Forgot it,” said grandpa. “ Forgot all 
about it ; so, to make up, I ’ll let her in, 
now, and we will all have tea together.” 

Grandma was ready for anybody, to- 
day ; so they had an early tea, and after 
tea a wonderful game of blind-man’s-buff. 
They had lots of fun, blinding grandpa ; 
and then, after a while, Katy was blinded, 
and tumbled round a long time, without 
catching anybody. She heard a door open, 
and a little scream from mamma, but 
thought it was all part of the game, and 
went on. The room was very still now, 
and Katy said, “ You ain’t fair a bit : 
somebody ought to holler, or something.” 
And then she made a little run, straight 
forward, coming right up against some 
one — a man. Grandpa, of course ; he 
was the only man there ; and she squealed 
“ Grandpa ! ” 

“No,” said some one — “not grandpa.” 

Katy shrank back, a little ; and then, 
thinking it must be Fanny’s father, she 
felt of his coat, to see if she could tell 


144 


grandpa’s house. 


whether it was Mr. Lawrence’s or not. 
Whoever it was, knelt down before her, 
and as her hands wandered up the coat to 
his face, there were two rows of buttons, 
and then a beard, and then two arms hug- 
ging her, and two lips kissing her; and 
Katy pulled the bandage from her eyes 
and saw — Fanny’s papa ? Not a bit of 
it. Her own ! 


CHAPTER IX. 


Papa had been away a year and a half. 
Katy was such a little girl when he left 
home, he had been afraid, as the cars 
brought him nearer and nearer, that she 
would not remember him; and so when, 
too happy to say a word, she snuggled 
her brown head into his neck and just 
kept still there, he said, “ Then you do 
know papa, little daughter ? ” 

“ I dess I do ! ” said Katy. “ Mamma and 
I always kiss your picture good morning 
and good night. I do n't see how I could 
help knowing you.” 

Papa smiled a little bright smile, as he 
got up from the floor and sat by mamma, 
with Katy in his arms. 

Joanna had put on Laura’s and Fanny’s 
things and gone home with them. Johnny 
Adams, too, started off at once, thinking 
to himself all the way home, how splendid 
it must be to wear such buttons and straps 
10 


146 


grandpa’s house. 


and such a shining sword ; and how quickly 
he would enlist if he were only grown up. 

So the family in Grandpa’s House were 
left alone ; and all drew up about the fire 
and listened while papa told about his 
wound, which it seemed he had received 
nearly two months before and never said 
a word about in his letters. Luckily the 
hurt was in the left arm, and the right had 
written home just the same as ever, until, 
finding he must be weak and unfit for 
duty a long time, he had taken twenty- 
one days’ sick leave and come home, fast 
as he could. Six days to come and six to 
return, left very little time for home, but 
papa said, “I can’t be away longer, when 
the city may be taken any day.” 

“ No hurry, I guess,” said grandpa. 
“ You ’ve been taking it every day for a 
year, now, and have n’t got it yet.” 

“Come down yourself, sir,” said papa, 
flushing a little, “ and see how easy you ’d 
find it.” 

“ W ell, well ! ” said grandpa. “ I suppose 
we, up here, can’t judge very well of such 
matters, but from the digging you ’ve done, 


grandpa’s house. 147 

it does seem as though the city might be 
undermined by this time .” 

Colonel Stuart began a description of 
some of their difficulties ; and Katie 
leaned against his well arm and listened, 
till his voice sounded hollow and far off. 
For a few minutes she was fast asleep, but 
roused up again, hearing papa say — “ The 
shot came through one of the sight holes 
in the quaker ; as neat a shot as ever I 
saw. I did n’t know I was hit until the 
blood spurted out from here ” — touching 
his left shoulder. “ The bone was so shat- 
tered they had to take out some pieces, 
and so shortened the arm a little ; but 
you ’d hardly know it I think. There ’s 
only half an inch or so difference between 
the two.” 

Katy knew but one Quaker, — an old 
man who lived near Cornish and sold 
butter and cheese ; and when papa said 
“ the shot came through one of the sight 
holes in the quaker,” she thought for 
some minutes just what that could mean. 
Making up her mind that a sight hole 
could n’t be any thing but an eye, she 


148 


grandpa’s house. 


said, “ Poor Quaker ! Did n’t it hurt him 
dreadfully, papa ? And what made it hit 
you after it went into his eye ? ” 

How papa did laugh ! And Katy 
laughed too, though she did n’t know 
what about. 

“ The quaker is n’t alive, dear,” he said, 
at last. “ ’ T is only a great log which lies 
on the ground outside of a trench, across 
the end toward the enemy, and stops the 
shot the Rebs fire at our men while at 
work. Holes are bored in this log, large 
enough to put a spy-glass in and see what 
the Johnny Rebs are about. There are 
some men among them, sharp-shooters 
they are called, who can aim at a man 
and hit him, too, even through such a little 
hole as that. ’Twas just in that way I 
got my wound. I was in the trench, 
standing still at that moment, my shoulder 
on a line with one of these holes, when 
sping ! came a bullet, straight through, 
and struck me here, right below the joint.” 

Katy was most too sleepy to under- 
stand perfectly, and even Rob, though he 
sat up very straight, admiring his soldier 


grandpa’s house. 


149 


uncle every minute, had nodded half a 
dozen times. Mamma said ’t was a shame 
to keep the little ones up a minute longer, 
and indeed, everybody ought to be in bed. 

“ Nonsense ! ” said grandpa. And then 
pulling out his watch and finding ’twas 
five minutes of ten, he snatched up Bob 
and started off for bed. Mamma put Katy 
on papa’s well arm, and they all made a 
little procession up the old stairs, both 
children wide awake now, pleased with 
the idea of sitting up as long as the big 
people. Papa was tired after his long 
journey, and did not go down again, but 
sat on the edge of the bed with mamma, 
till Katy’s eyes were tight shut and then 
they went away together to their own 
room. 

How strange it seemed, next morning, 
to wake up and think who was there. 
Katy rubbed her eyes, as she sat up in bed, 
and wondered if ’twas not all a dream. 
But no, there was the tall papa, coming in 
with mamma, at her door ; and after she 
was dressed, she rode down stairs on his 
shoulder. And what a gay breakfast they 


150 grandpa’s house. 

had that morning — staying such a time 
at table that Nancy, who had come to 
the door with Joanna every time she sent 
in a fresh plate of cakes, appeared once 
more and asked, “ Would n’t they please 
rejourn to the parlor, for she wanted Joan 
to do up them dishes, before dinner.” 

In the parlor they sat, the morning 
through ; and one after another the 
neighbors came in to see the returned 
soldier. First came Fanny Lawrence’s 
father and mother, who said they could 
hardly keep away the evening before, but 
thought they would let them have that 
first night in peace. Then Doctor Phelps 
just dropped in, and could n’t stay to sit 
down, he was in such a hurry ; so he stood 
up, talking, over an hour and a half, think- 
ing he was going, every minute. Then 
the old minister came and more people 
than I have told you any thing about, as 
yet; till Colonel Stuart began to look a 
little flushed and tired and mamma said he 
must lie down : and then everybody went 
away. Papa had a long nap, and after- 
ward the family had a late dinner; and, 


grandpa’s house. 


151 


all at once, the day was gone, and Katy 
wondered what had become of it, as she 
went to bed. 

Next morning, while papa was gone 
over to old Judge Putnam’s, on some 
business, Katy went up to the garret, 
where Rob had been very busy about 
something, ever since breakfast. He had 
dragged out an old chest, which he put 
right in front of the old smoke-closet, and 
on the back of it had placed a long board, 
brought in from the wood-house. Behind 
all this was an empty box, which he called 
“ the trench ; ” and in his trench, Master 
Rob was sitting, boring holes in the board, 
with a very shaky gimlet. 

“ Hullo, Katy ” — said he, as Katy came 
running up — 66 I ’m having such a time 
with these sight holes. I can’t get ’em 
big enough to shoot a pea through.” 

“ What do you want to shoot a pea 
through, for ? ” said Katy. 

“ So ’s to take Vicksburg, to be sure,” 
answered Rob. “ You see, the ham-closet 
and the herb-room are going to be Vicks- 
burg. I meant to have it the summer- 


152 


grandpa’s house. 


house, and dig a real trench, out doors, 
behind the currant bushes, but the ground 
ain’t thawed yet, and this does most as 
well. Grandpa gave me a pint o’ pease ; 
and Spence Hall and Johnny are both 
coming over by and by.” 

“ There ought to be somebody in Vicks- 
burg, to shoot back,” said Katy. 

“That ’s just it,” said Rob. “ Johnny is 
going to be General Pemberton in the 
ham-closet, and fire pease through the 
keyhole ; and I want you to go and get 
Fanny, and you and she go in the herb- 
room, and maybe grandpa will bore a hole 
in the door, for you to shoot through. 
Won’t it be fun?” 

“ I ’ll go and ask grandpa, now.” And 
off Katy ran ; coming back soon, holding 
grandpa’s finger, while he pretended to be 
doing his best to get away. 

“ Well, what is it now ? ” said he. “ Do 
you want me to tear the garret to pieces ? 
or dig up the cellar ? ” 

sc Nothin’ only to bore a hole,” said Rob. 

Grandpa, who had the auger all ready, 
smiled a little to himself, as Rob explained 


grandpa’s house. 


153 


the plan of attack, and then bored two 
holes in the herb-room door, just the right 
height for Katy and Fanny to stand up 
and blow their pease through. 

“ If the pease don’t hold out till the 
city is taken, you may have some of those 
little white beans, in the corner,” he said. 
“ What do you think grandma would say 
to such doings? Boring holes in her 
doors and using up her beans ? ” 

“ Nothin’ ” — said Bob. “ She ’d like it.” 

“ I should n’t wonder if she would,” said 
grandpa, going down again, to tell her 
what the children were doing. 

Katy followed, to get Fanny ; and about 
an hour after, such a dreadful siege was 
going on, that Colonel Stuart, when he 
came home, heard the roar of the battle 
and went softly up the garret stairs and 
sat down where he could see how the war 
went on. 

Bob and Spencer were bravely defending 
the trench, sending their pease pop against 
the doors and firing straight at Johnny 
whenever he dared to put his head out — 
while Katy and Fanny were giggling so 


154 


grandpa’s house. 


behind their door that they had n’t breath 
enough left to send their pease three 
inches beyond it. 

66 Ain’t it most time for me to get 
wounded ? ” said Rob. And without wait- 
ing for any answer, he popped his head 
up, above the board and received a shot 
from General Pemberton right on his 
crown. 

“ Ow ! Ow ! Yow ! ” he howled, falling 
over into the box. “ My back ’s cracked 
and I ’ve lost all my brains ! ” Then sud- 
denly recollecting, he sat right up again. 
“ Why, Spence, we have n’t got any doc- 
tor — they always have a doctor. What 
shall we do ? ” 

"I ’ll be the doctor,” said Colonel 
Stuart, suddenly appearing, much to the 
boys’ astonishment. 

Kob, with a very satisfied look, fell back 
again and shut his eyes, ready to be taken 
care of. The Rebels came out, to see 
what was going on, and were immediately 
made prisoners, by Spencer Hall. Papa 
took Katy and Fanny for hospital nurses ; 
and after plastering up Rob’s head with a 


grandpa’s house. 


155 


ten cent currency and mending his back 
with a five cent one, gave him lemon drop 
pills for fear that fever might set in. 
Then there seemed to be great danger 
from fever in the hospital, all of a sudden, 
for everybody had to have some of the 
medicine ; and the nurses in passing it 
round, forgot their duties and would have 
lost their appetites altogether, if the din- 
ner bell had not rung just as it did. 
The boys raced home and Fanny too, 
though grandma asked her to stay. 

After dinner, papa went to lie down a 
little while, and Katy went with him to 
brush his hair and make him feel sleepy. 
Callers came pretty soon to see mamma 
and Aunt Katy ; and papa got up and went 
back to the dining-room. There, seated 
in the great stuffed chair, with his feet up, 
he said he was really more comfortable 
than he had been on the sofa. Katy 
brought a little stool to the big chair and 
stood up on it while she brushed papa’s 
dark brown curls — just like those on her 
own little head. By and by the curls fell 
over papa’s eyes — he turned a little, 


156 


grandpa’s house. 


toward the side of the chair, and then — 
he was fast asleep. 

As Katy stood watching him and admir- 
ing him, she all at once happened to 
think how funny he would look with his 
hair braided into tiny tails, such as she 
had seen on a little darkey boy, a few days 
before. So she moved the stool round in 
front of the chair, and after having made 
a parting nicely in the middle — which 
was n’t at all easy — she began to braid ; 
combing the curls out with such jerks 
that if papa had n’t been used to sleeping 
in all sorts of uneasy ways, he would have 
waked up in self-defense. 

Braiding was slow work, for Katy had 
only just learned how ; but she worked 
on patiently, tying up each tail with red 
marking cotton from grandma ’s work- 
basket, until she had made more than a 
dozen. Then it began to grow less inter- 
esting, and she had already thought of 
stopping, when she heard Rob calling 
her. Leaving the last little tail half fin- 
ished, sticking up in a friz, she hurried off 
to find Rob, and went with him to the 


gkandpa’s house. 


157 


wood-house chamber to crack butternuts, 
on an old anvil, kept there for that pur- 
pose. 

Mamma looked into the dining-room, 
after her company had gone, and, seeing 
papa fast asleep, went up stairs for her 
work. 

Presently the old knocker at the front 
door sounded ; and papa sat up, suddenly, 
half thinking he was in camp and the 
drums were beating. Joanna, coming to 
the door said — u Please sir, Governor 
Butler is in the parlor, and wants to see 
you right away.” 

Papa was hardly wide awake yet, but 
having an idea somebody was in a great 
hurry, started off for the parlor. 

Now Governor Butler was an old gen- 
tleman who had been governor of the 
State for several years, and he lived in a 
very fine house, at the end of the village. 
Never was there a man so particular as to 
how he talked, and dressed, and stood, and 
looked, every minute. He had come, now, 
on a very special errand ; one which he 
thought would please Colonel Stuart very 


158 


grandpa’s house. 


much. He sat up very straight in his 
chair, looking very handsome and digni- 
fied, making ready a little speech, in which 
he meant to tell the Colonel how proud 
all the town’s people were of him, and 
that they had held a public meeting and 
passed resolutions inviting him to deliver 
a lecture in the town hall, describing the 
siege of Vicksburg and any other inter- 
esting things he knew, about the war. 

So there sat the Governor, in great 
state, as I have told you — saying his 
speech all over, to himself — when the 
door opened, and in walked papa. A 
great tall soldier, with all those wonderful 
little red-tied tails sticking up on one side 
of his head. 

- “ Bless my soul ! ” said the Governor, for- 
getting every word of his speech. 

“ That ’s a queer way to meet a man,” 
thought papa to himself, as he stepped 
forward to shake hands. “I suppose it 
must be he is surprised to see me looking 
so thin and used up.” 

“ Bless my soul ! ” said the old Governor, 
again, as papa bowed and all the little tails 
nodded. 


grandpa’s house. 159 

Just that minute papa caught sight of 
himself, in the long glass between the 
windows. He turned very red, at first, 
and then tried to explain how it must 
have happened ; but he broke down in the 
midst of it, and laughed till he cried. 
The Governor joined in after a moment, 
and they both went on so, that grandpa 
came in to see what was the matter, and 
then he laughed harder than anybody. 

When they were composed, at last — 
and it took a long time — the Governor 
explained the object of his call. At first 
papa said, " No ; his time at home was too 
short. He was far from strong and must 
recruit as fast as possible during his visit : 
so he really did not think he could under- 
take to lecture ; particularly as he had 
not made the least preparation.” 

" Nonsense, Dugald ! ” said old Doctor 
Phelps, who had come walking into the 
room without knocking, as he always did 
when he had any spare time. "You have 
sharp eyes in your head, and you ’ve kept 
them open, too, wherever you ’ve been, 
I ’ll be bound. Your tongue is ready 


160 


grandpa’s house. 


enough, too : just let it tell, in plain Eng- 
lish, what your eyes have seen — without 
any big words or fol-de-rol — and it will 
be just what we all want to hear, and just 
what we have n’t heard, from anybody.” 

When mamma came down stairs, she 
joined in urging that the invitation should 
be accepted ; so at last papa consented ; 
and as it was now Friday, the appoint- 
ment was made for the following Tuesday, 
in order to give plenty of time to get 
ready. 

The Governor stopped at the printing- 
office on his way home ; and the next 
afternoon there were handbills in all the 
stores and in front of the post-office, with 
Colonel Dugald Stuart’s name displayed in 
the largest type the printer had. Katy 
saw them, as she walked down to the vil- 
lage with papa, Saturday afternoon ; and 
Rob read every one aloud as they came to 
it, thinking to himself “his uncle was 
about the smartest man that ever was.” 

When Tuesday came, at last, papa sat a 
long time writing, and mamma copied the 
pages in a large, round hand, so that they 


grandpa’s house. 


161 


could be read easily, in the evening. 
Katy thought all day, how queer it would 
seem to sit up in the town hall, where she 
had never been but once, and hear her 
own father talking just like a minister ; 
and when Joanna asked, “ Shall I put Miss 
Katy to bed at half-past seven, ma ’am ? ” 
she turned almost purple with indignation. 

“ I ain’t going to bed ! ” she said, loudly. 
“ I ’m going to hear papa preach.” 

“ I think not, my little daughter,” said 
papa. “ I don’t begin to ‘ preach ’ until 
eight o’clock, and Governor Butler will 
make some remarks, and the Union Club 
are to sing. We may not get through 
until after ten, and where would Katy be 
by that time ? ” 

“ Sound asleep ! ” said grandma. 

“ I would n’t ! ” said Katy, stoutly. 
“ I ’d be awake — wide awake ! I would 
n’t go to sleep ! ” 

“ I should like to have her go, Dugald,” 
said mamma. “ It would be something 
for her to remember, and even if she does 
fall asleep, she will always be glad she 
attended her papa’s lecture on the war.” 


162 


grandpa’s house. 


Papa looked up with a pleased smile, 
saying, “Well ! we ’ll take her then,” feel- 
ing glad they had so decided, when he 
saw the happy look in Katy’s face. And 
so she was made ready at half-past seven, 
declaring all the time — u how silly it was 
for anybody to say she would go to sleep.” 

The town hall not being far from 
Grandpa’s House, they all walked down : 
papa giving them seats when they arrived, 
and then walking up to the platform, 
where the Governor, two ministers, Doctor 
Phelps, and grandpa were sitting. Katy, 
looking at her father as he shook' hands 
with the others on the platform, whis- 
pered to mamma that he “ was just as 
splendid as a real angel.” 

The club sang “ The Battle Cry of 
Freedom,” and then the Governor got up 
and talked a good while, in a way which 
Katy did n’t understand at all, ending by 
introducing “ Colonel Dugald Stuart.” 

Then the people all clapped their hands 
and the young men stamped on the floor ; 
and papa came forward and bowed and 
bowed until the audience were still ; and 


grandpa’s house. 


163 


then he began to read. He kept his eyes 
fast on the written pages at first, but as he 
went on, began to warm up, and by and 
by began to look at the audience ; and 
finally, forgetting his notes altogether, he 
talked right on, telling the people all 
about the camp before Vicksburg, and 
the hardships which the soldiers endured 
there. 

Everybody in the hall was deeply inter- 
ested and sometimes a good deal excited, 
and every now and then came quite a 
storm of clapping and stamping. It had 
made Katy jump when she first heard it, 
but she soon learned to join her little 
hands heartily with the others. She sat 
up very straight, at first, her eyes wide 
open and her cheeks very red, and looked 
with the greatest attention at papa. She 
understood a great deal of what he said ; 
and it certainly was exciting, not only to 
see and hear him, but to look around,* as 
she finally did, and catch Spence Hall’s 
eye, and see him clap his hands as hard as 
he could, whenever anybody else did. She 
saw Miss Owens, too, who smiled at her ; 


164 


grandpa’s house. 


and in different parts of the hall, with 
their parents, were a good many of the 
older school-children ; and way back near 
the door was Miss Tempy Perkins ; and 
Katy felt red, as she remembered the 
bonnet. 

Then, for a while, our little girl did n’t 
see much of anything, and when she did 
open her eyes, ’t was only to look straight 
up at the stars. Real stars, for the lecture 
was over and she had been fast asleep 
after all, and there she was, now, being 
carried home in grandpa’s arms, the 
full moon shining down into her face. 
Before she knew it, off she went again; 
and when she next opened her eyes, it 
was to see the sun shining in at her bed- 
room window, and papa sitting on the 
edge of the bed. 

“ Is you all done preaching ? ” said she : 
and then was half a mind to cry, as she 
remembered that she had gone to sleep at 
papa’s lecture in spite of herself. Rob 
made fun of her at the breakfast table ; 
and said she had lost the best of it all, for 
they had a vote of thanks at the end, and 


gkandpa’s house. 


165 


such stamping and clapping that papa had 
to bow three times, and most every one in 
town came up to shake hands with him. 

Mamma said — “ Never mind • she had 
heard a good deal, and, long as she lived, 
would be glad to think she had gone.” 
So Katy felt comforted and ate her break- 
fast. 

A day or two more, and then ’t was time 
for papa to go. Katy clung hard to him, 
at the last ; and when he had gone, 
mamma and she sat and cried together ; 
not only that day, but many a day after- 
ward. Now that he had been wounded, 
mamma could n’t feel so safe about him as 
she had before; and every night, Katy 
prayed “ God bring papa home, all whole , 
without any wound, and never let him go 
away again.” 


CHAPTER X. 


April had behaved much better than 
usual, this year, and instead of snapping 
at each little bud as it put its head out, 
pinching it most to death, had only given 
little nips now and then ; till, as May drew 
near, each bud had grown bigger and big- 
ger, and, if the sun did his duty, would be 
in full leaf within a week. The grass grew 
green by the road-side ; tender wild-wood 
plants unfolded wee blossoms, in sunny 
places ; in the spring wind, growing softer 
day by day, grandma’s blue hyacinths shook 
their little bells ; and the laughing daffodils 
held up their yellow heads to the bluebirds 
and kept watch for the banded bumble- 
bee, who might be coming, now, most any 
day. There was no more snow, save the 
white crest on the mountain top ; and the 
river danced along, hurrying to the sea 
perhaps, a little cake of ice, “the very 
last of the season.” The old willows by 


grandpa’s house. 


167 


the mill-pond had never before made such 
splendid whistles ; and Johnny Adams and 
Peter Perkins, walking along to school, 
blew such shrill, clear notes on theirs, that 
Spencer Hall, whittling away at his, which 
would n’t do any thing but squeak, threw 
stick and knife right over the fence, and 
had to spend five minutes at least, look- 
ing for them. 

You may wonder how it happened that 
Spencer Hall should be here, and not in 
New York, where his home was. The 
truth is, after returning to New York, the 
last of October, he really pined for the 
sweet mountain air and all the out-door 
plays of the country, and the boys and 
girls whom he had come to know so well 
and whom he declared to be just the j oi- 
liest set in the world. So it happened 
that Spencer’s mother, who had a large 
family and could never give any one of 
them quite so much attention as she 
wished — wrote to her sister, with whom 
Spencer had been staying during the 
summer, asking if she could conveniently 
take Spencer and keep him till he was 


168 


grandpa’s house. 


homesick. Aunt Martha was very willing, 
for though sometimes roguish, he was, on 
the whole, a capital boy, and endeared him- 
self to all her family, when with them. 
Spencer had supposed he would have to go 
to boarding-school, and dreaded the idea 
very much ; so when it was decided he 
was really going to Windsor, instead, he 
was so delighted that he stood on his head 
until red in the face and his little sister 
Mary began to cry, declaring — “ if he 
did n’t hurry, he never could get his boots 
down to the floor again.” 

So Spencer had come back during the 
last of February; and had coasted, and 
skated, and been first in all the good 
times ; getting laughed at for his green- 
ness in some ways, but coming out strong 
with such descriptions of Barnum’s and 
all Van Amburg’s wild animals that Johnny 
Adams said — “ whenever Spen got in a 
tight place, he always began to talk hyena 
and hippottomas.” 

Vacation had ended the second week in 
April and now school would be open till 
the middle of July. And never was there 


grandpa’s house. 


169 


a happier set of boys and girls than came 
walking over the old road and up the hill 
to the school-house, where they still had a 
little fire in the stove in the morning but 
by noon the windows were opened to let 
in the air, now getting to be almost warm. 

When Spencer had found his knife, he 
scurried up the hill after Johnny and 
Peter. “ I say, boys,” called he, “ how do 
you do it? I can’t make my whistle 
sound like that.” 

“ This way,” said Johnny, blowing a 
tremendous blast into one ear, while Peter, 
who saw the joke, gave a furious toot in 
the other. 

“ Look here now ! ” said Spencer — 
“ that ain’t what I wanted to know.” And 
he made a dive, first at one and then 
the other, till they all three rolled in the 
road together. “ I ’ll pull your dog’s tail, 
Johnny Adams, if you don’t look out !’\ 

“ Try it, now ! ” shouted Johnny. “ Hi, 
Jip ! Here ’s a feller wants to have a dig 
at you. Come right up now and give 
your tail to Mr. Hall — polite now — like 
a good boy.” 


170 


grandpa’s house. 


Jip appeared suddenly from no one 
knew where and dashed down among them, 
growling and barking as if he meant to 
tear them all to pieces, but wagging that 
pointed tail every minute, so that if Spen- 
cer had been ever so much minded to pull 
it, he would have found it hard to get 
hold of 

What would the boys’ mothers have said 
could they have seen the knees of these 
three pairs of trousers, after the scramble 
in the road ? Miss Owens, walking rapidly 
along, stopped a moment to watch her 
dusty pupils and then went on, smiling as 
she answered their good morning. Rob 
and Katy, coming in sight, ran as fast as 
their small legs would let them, to find 
out what it all meant. 

“Oh,” said Katy looking down at her 
fresh white apron and bright blue delaine 
— “ ain’t boys dre’ful dirty ? Look at 
your trousers, Peter Perkins.” 

“ Your Aunt Tempy ’ll give it to you ! ” 
said Spencer, rubbing his own sandy 
knees. 

“ I don’t care ! ” said Peter. “ I ’ve had 


grandpa’s house. 171 

some fun any how, and Lucy ain’t here to 
tell on me.” 

“ I ’d hit her, some o’ these times, if she 
told about me,” said Johnny. 

“ So I do,” said Peter ; “ but then she 
tells o’ that, too, and then I get licked 
harder than ever, — so that don’t pay.” 

Here the bell rang for nine o’clock ; 
and there was no more time for talk nor 
whistles either. At recess the boys all 
came out together • and Johnny produced 
a lovely piece of willow which he had 
been keeping for a very extra whistle. 

“ Don’t you say I never gave you noth- 
in’, Spence Hall,” said he. “ You take that 
stick and do just what I tell you with it, 
and when you ’re through, you ’ll know 
how to make a whistle, slick. Cut through 
the bark, right round, near the middle 
o’ the stick. Now wet the longest half 
and pound it on your knee with your 
knife-handle — easy — don’t break the 
bark. Now, if it ’s loose enough, wring it 
off and lay it down, wherever you ’re a 
mind to. Jip, let that alone, sir! Now 
cut a notch in the wood, about an inch 


172 


grandpa’s house. 


from the end ; cut most through the stick, 
only leave enough to hold the plug. 
Slice off a good big shaving from the 
upper side o’ your plug. Clap on the 
bark ; and cut a notch in that, where the 
bottom of the plug comes, as big as your 
finger nail. Now, little boy green, come 
blow up your horn.” 

And Spencer blew a mighty blast, mak- 
ing noise enough to satisfy even his am- 
bition. “ I wish I had the one here I was 
making this morning ; I ’d see why it 
would n’t go. There, I know how to 
make whistles now ; and I ’ll bet I can 
beat you all making kites. I say, boys, 
it ’s most kite time, is n’t it ? ” 

“ That’s so ! ” said Johnny, jumping up, 
“ and we have n’t flown one, yet. I mean 
to begin one this very afternoon, when 
we go home.” 

“You can get ’em for a penny apiece, 
in New York — little ones,” said Spencer. 
“ I used to buy ’em, when I was a little 
boy ; but now, if I want a kite I go and 
make it. And I ’m just going to make a 
rouser, the first thing I do.” 


grandpa’s house. 173 

a I would n’t buy a kite,” said Johnny. 
“ I think half the fun is making it.” 

“ So do I,” said Peter ; “ and then you 
can have all sorts of a tail. Aunt Tempy ’s 
first-rate about tails. She gave me all the 
rags I wanted, last year.” 

All the way home, that afternoon, the 
boys talked nothing but kite ; and Rob, 
who had never made one, kept his ears 
open, taking in every idea he could get 
about them. On reaching home, he would 
have rushed off at once to find grandpa 
and consult with him on the kite question, 
but as he went by the parlor door, his 
mother called him in. “See here, Rob,” 
said she, “ here are two notes ; one for 
you and one for Katy. Who do you 
think they are from?” “From papa,” 
cried Katy, who sometimes had real let- 
ters, all to herself, from her father. 

“ No,” said mamma. “ I ’ll read yours, 
Katy.” And opening it she read as fol- 
lows : 

“ Fanny and Jamie Lawrence’s love, 
and they will be at home, Tuesday, May 
2d, from three to eight, p. m. Please to 
bring your dolls.” 


174 


grandpa’s house. 


" Be at home ? ” questioned Katy. " Is 
she sick? What is she going to be at 
home for ? ” 

"It is an invitation to a party,” said 
mamma. "She means she will be dressed 
and ready to see her friends, from three in 
the afternoon until eight in the evening.” 

" A party ? ” squealed Katy. “ Oh, how 
nice ! What for, though. It is n’t her 
birthday.” 

" It is Jamie’s birthday,” said mamma. 
" He will be four years old — quite old 
enough to have a party. Their uncle 
Jack is coming up from New York, on 
Saturday, so you will be sure to have good 
times. And now, children, I ’ve got 
another surprise for you. What do you 
think the expressman brought up, frbm 
the noon train ? ” 

" A baby-house, with rooms in it ! ” said 
Katy, who was always expecting one to 
appear. 

" A baby ! ” shouted Rob, who very 
much wanted a little brother or sister. 

" No,” said mamma, laughing. " Come 
and see.” 


grandpa’s house. 


175 


Going into grandma’s room, they found 
grandpa there, strutting about with a pair 
of v Zouave trousers round his neck, a 
Zouave cap on his head, and his hands in 
the sleeves of a little red dress. 

“ Now father, you are too bad ! ” said 
Aunt Katy, taking the clothes away from 
him and giving his hair a little pull. 
“ There, Rob ! See what your Aunt Molly 
has sent you.” 

Rob stood in silent delight over his real 
Zouave suit — full scarlet trousers, and 
jacket braided with gilt ; while Katy was 
also speechless, looking at the red merino 
dress and sack, embroidered with a beauti- 
ful vine running all round, such a dress as 
she never had before. There was a tucked 
white waist to wear with it, and when 
mamma put the jacket over it and laid 
all together on grandma’s bed, Katy 
thought surely she was the happiest little 
girl in the world. 

Aunt Molly was papa’s sister, and very 
often sent pretty things to the children ; 
but this was the most astonishing gift she 
had yet made. In the little note which 


176 


grandpa’s house. 


came with the box, she said the things 
were to have been ready two months 
before ; but she had been sick and only 
able to finish them now, in time for a little 
wear before warm weather, — though, as 
Eob’s suit was only flannel, he would have 
plenty of time to take the shine off before 
July, if he were like all the boys she 
knew. 

"We can wear them to the party, can’t 
we ? ” said both children at once. 

"Yes,” said mamma, "it is still cool 
enough ; but after that, Katy, your suit 
will keep till next fall.” 

" I’ll wear it this summer,” said grand- 
pa. " Eed is excellent for rheumatism. 
Now I think of it, there’s a twinge in 
my left shoulder this minute. Dear me ! 
Ow ! I ’m sure I need it more than 
Katy does. Only just the sack, you 
know.” 

" Do you, truly, grandpa ? ” asked Katy, 
with solemn eyes. " ’Cause, if you do 
ache dre’ful, there is some turned in at 
the top, and mamma may cut you off a 
teenty piece to do you up in.” 


grandpa’s house. 


177 


“ Bless your heart ! ” said grandpa, 
swinging her up to his shoulder, as if 
the rheumatism did n’t trouble him very 
badly. “ Grandpa does n’t want it ; he 
was only joking.” 

Rob was too much pleased with his new 
clothes to think of any thing else, till he 
had tried them on and paraded about 
awhile. Then he remembered the impor- 
tant business he had on hand for that 
afternoon. “ Grandpa,” said he, “ did you 
know ’t was kite time ? ” 

“Is it?” said grandpa. “Well, what 
about it ? ” 

“ Why, I want you to come, right away, 
and help me make a real splendid one.” 

“ How can I make kites ? That ’s boys’ 
business, and I stopped being a boy 
more than fifty years ago.” 

“ I don’t care — you can do every thing, 
and I want an awful big one, so ’s to beat 
all the boys ; and grandma can make the 
tail.” 

“ Can she, indeed ? Well, if I make the 
kite and grandma makes the tail, ’t will 
not be your kite at all, but ours ; and we 
12 


178 


grandpa’s house. 


shall have to go and fly it on the com- 
mon.” 

“ Oh, but you see, when it ’s done, you ’ll 
give it to me.” 

“ Well, I should n’t wonder if we did. 
Come into the work-room, and we ’ll see 
what we can do.” And off they went, 
followed by Katy, who was almost as 
anxious about the kite, as Eob himself. 

The work-room opened from the kitch- 
en; quite a large room, with a window 
at the end, where w T ere all sorts of tools 
and a turning lathe; for papa, when at 
home, and not in his office, was always 
busy with some delicate piece of work — 
a carved bracket or picture-frame — or 
some piece of mending which nobody but 
he could do. Grandpa looked about till 
he found some smooth, straight wood for 
sticks, and then sat down on the bench in 
the corner ; telling Eob to go out to Nancy 
and get her to make the paste. 

Nancy was making ginger snaps for tea, 
and pretended to be cross, when Eob asked 
her. 

“ Always havin’ things done for you,” 


































/ 





grandpa’s house. 


179 


said she. But she dropped the rolling- 
pin, and set about making the paste at 
once. “How much better he ye than 
other chillens, to pay for it all ? ” 

“ Dun know,” said Bob. 

“No more do I,” said Nancy; but by 
the look she gave him, as he walked away 
with the smooth paste, I ’m sure she 
thought no better boy could be found, 
the world over. 

Grandpa had the frame almost together 
by the time the paste appeared, and Bob 
almost dropped the bowl when he looked' 
in. “ Why, it ’s taller than me ! ” he 
shouted. “ It ’s ever so much taller than 
me ! What will the boys say, grandpa ? 
Ain’t you nice ? ” 

“ Could n’t say,” said grandpa. “ Sup- 
pose you go and see what grandma ’s 
doing, for a minute.” 

Bob ran ; and directly was heard anoth- 
er shout, for there was grandma, tying 
tags of red, white, and blue, for a tail ; a 
tremendous tail, which, when pulled out 
of her lap — as it was in two seconds — 
reached all around the room. So much 


180 


grandpa’s house. 


running back and forth was required now, 
before the kite could be finished, that 
when at last it was really done — covered 
with smooth, white paper, and stood up in 
the meal-bin to dry over night — Rob and 
Katy were both so hungry they ate three 
times as many snaps as could have been 
reasonably expected, and would have eaten 
more if the basket had n’t been entirely 
empty. 

Rob dreamed of kites and Zouave suits, 
all night; and next morning Katy was 
possessed to wear her new dress to school. 

“ ’T is Friday, now, dear,” said mamma. 
“ Think how soon ’t will be Tuesday ; and 
then, when ’t is time to put the dress on 
for the party, you ’ll be sorry any of the 
little girls have seen it.” 

“No I shan’t,” said Katy. “ Please, 
please mamma, let me wear it.” 

Mamma liked to have Katy dressed 
prettily but simply all the time, but never 
cared that she should have special Sunday 
suits ; so she at last consented, and Katy 
ran up-stairs delighted, to have it put on. 

“ Save the jacket for the party,” said 


grandpa’s house. 


181 


mamma, “and wear one of your white 
aprons over it to-day.” And Katy put on 
the long-sleeved apron, thinking she could 
easily slip it off, if she wanted to show the 
waist. 

The kite was quite dry, the tail fastened 
on, and with a great ball of string in his 
hand, Rob was showing it off in the hall 
as Katy came down the front stairs. She 
gave her frock a little flirt, as she tripped 
along, just to show Rob how pretty it was, 
and felt something hard hit the baluster. 
Katy always turned the pockets of her 
new dresses inside out, the first thing, but 
she had forgotten to turn this one, and as 
she put her hand into it, there were a pair 
of bright new scissors in a neat morocco 
case. 

“ My, my ! ” said Katy. “ To think of 
that ! ” And she sat right down on the 
stairs to look at them. 

“ What is it ? ” said mamma, coming 
down. 

♦ 

“Just look!” cried Katy, holding them 
up. 

“That’s very nice,” 


said mamma. 


182 grandpa’s house. 

“Now you ’ll always have them to cut 
threads with, when you are sewing, and 
need never use those sharp little teeth in 
that way again. Now ’t is time you were 
on your way to school. Be careful of the 
new dress ! ” And mamma kissed her and 
went into grandma’s room. 

When Miss Owens came into school 
that morning, she said to herself she was 
thankful it was Friday. Fourteen boys, 
every one with a kite, and seventeen 
girls, i all eager to see them flying. “ Carry 
them every one into the passage-way,” 
said she, “ where you can’t see them, and 
if you are good and say your lessons well, 
you may have half an hour at recess, in- 
stead of the usual fifteen minutes.” 

“ Three cheers for Miss Owens ! ” shouted 
Spencer Hall. And three cheers there 
were, before Miss Owens could say no. 
She had to laugh a little as she went up 
to her chair and began the roll. 

Recess time seemed two years, instead 
of two hours in coming, but at last the 
bell rang, and then what a rush there was 
for the door — even Miss Owens stepping 


grandpa’s house. 


183 


down quickly as if she would like to see 
the kites go up. Spencer’s was of red, 
white, and blue paper, with white tail ; 
Peter Perkins’, all white; and the other 
boy had all sorts and sizes. Hob’s was 
the largest, had the handsomest tail, and 
would have been the finest kite altogether, 
only Johnny Adams had two great red 
flannel eyes on his, that even when the 
kite had gone very far up, could still be 
plainly seen ; while Rob’s red, white, and 
blue tail, hardly showed at all, by com- 
parison. The wind was just right, and 
the fourteen kites, all flying at once, were 
a very fine sight. 

“ Mine ’s the biggest ! ” said Rob, for 
the twentieth time at least, since first 
meeting the boys. It is the biggest, but, 
Oh dear ! I wish it had red eyes. Oh 
dear ! if it only had ! ” 

Hiram Jones, whose kite was blue, tail 
and all, had driven three stakes in the 
ground, beside the path, and when recess 
was over, several of the boys fastened 
their strings here, instead of pulling the 
kites in, so that no time need be lost at 


184 


grandpa’s house. 


noon, getting them up again. This of 
course obliged the boys to be looking out 
of the window every chance they could 
get, after school was in again ; till at last 
Miss Owens said, “ though she excused 
them somewhat for to-day, in future they 
must do their kite-flying either before or 
after school, unless they could make up 
their minds to pay better attention to their 
lessons.” 

At noon, the boys swallowed their din- 
ners just as fast as they could, and then 
w T ere off to their kites again. The girls 
had been too excited at recess to notice 
the new dress much, but now Katy stood 
still and allowed a more careful examina- 
tion. 

“ Ain’t it splendid ? ” said Clara Perry. 
“It ’s just the color of the eyes on Johnny 
Adams’ kite, I do believe.” 

“ Yes,” said Katy, “ only it ’s brighter.” 

She looked over where Rob was flying 
his kite, evidently only half contented 
with it, and an idea suddenly came to her 
mind, which startled her so, she ran into 
the school-room and sat down to think. 


grandpa’s house. 


185 


Ci Scissors in her pocket ; lots of lovely red 
merino under the plaits of her dress that 
nobody saw ; what eyes could be cut out, 
all in a minute, if she only chose ; how 
Rob would laugh, and how splendid his 
kite would be.” 

Not a minute did Katy wait, but out 
came the scissors — and then all at once 
— there were two great, round, jagged 
holes in the new dress — and not under 
the plaits, after all. With two red eyes in 
her hand, Katy stood in the door, calling 
66 Rob ! Kob ! ” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” he shouted, as he ran up ; 
and then all the girls came too. 

“ Why, Katy Stuart ! Where did you 
get ’em ? Ain’t they splendid ! ” 

“ Found ’em,” said Katy. 

“ Rob ran and wound in his kite, as fast 
as he could. Spencer helped him wind 
and Hiram Jones got some mucilage from 
his desk; and in five minutes, up went 
that kite again, with two beautiful red 
eyes shining in the sun, like rubies. Kob 
felt ten feet tall, at least. 

“ Where did you get ’em, Rob ? ” asked 
all the boys. 


186 


grandpa’s house. 


“ Katy gave ’em to me/’ said Rob, too 
pleased to stop and think where she could 
have found them. 

“ Where did Katy get them ? ” said 
Miss Owens, who had come up. 

Katy turned very red and said nothing. 

“She says she found them,” said Clara 
Perry. 

Katy stood still, holding down her white 
apron — which the wind would keep blow- 
ing up — till Lucy Perkins came and gave 
it a sudden jerk, and then — there were 
those two staring holes. 

66 Why, Katy ! ” said Miss Owens — and 
then walked right away to the school- 
room ; and Hiram Jones thought she 
laughed as she went in. She was sober 
enough though after school, as she said 
how sorry she was for what had happened, 
and Katy must tell her mother as soon as 
she got home. 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Katy, who began to 
think how awful it was, as she walked off 
with Rob, who hugged her every three 
minutes, all the way home, and said he ’d 
tell just how it was. 


grandpa’s house. 


187 


Going in at the gate, though, his cour- 
age failed ; and mamma, as she met them 
at the door, could n’t tell which had been 
in mischief, for both looked equally miser- 
able and cried equally hard, when she 
said — “ What is the trouble, children ? ” 

After waiting a moment, and getting 
no answer but sobs, she said, “ Come with 
me, Katy,” and took her hand to lead her 
up-stairs. 

a That ’s it, mamma ! ” said Katy, sud- 
denly throwing her apron over her head 
and screaming through it, as mamma 
looked in amazement at the two holes. 
“ My new scissors did it ; Oh, suz me ! my 
new scissors did it ! ” 

“ They did it for me ! They did it for 
me ! ” howled Rob. “ There they are,” 
and he turned his kite around, showing 
the pieces that just fitted those two holes. 

“ Whose hands held the new scissors ? ” 
asked mamma. 

“ Mine,” said Katie. “ Tie them up, 
mamma. They could n’t help it.” 

Mamma left the children in the hall and 
went up-stairs, to think what had better 


188 


grandpa’s house. 


be done. Then grandma came out and 
Rob told the whole story. Presently, 
mamma called, and Katy went up slowly, 
followed by Rob, who made up his mind 
that if she was to be punished, he would 
be, too. Mamma sat by the window as 
they went in, and, looking into her face 
and finding she was not dreadfully angry 
as she had feared, Katy ran to her and 
climbed into her lap. 

“ I ’m so glad you ain’t mad, mamma,” 
she said. 

“ Why, I could n’t be ‘ mad,’ as you 
call *it, because you acted from a very 
kind motive,” said mamma, “ but you 
must learn not to do things which seem 
kind, without thinking whether they really 
are so or not. You gave pleasure to Eob, 
to be sure, but think how sorry Aunt 
Molly would be, if she should see your 
pretty frock, now ; and think how much 
trouble I shall have in mending those 
great jagged holes. Now %o make you 
remember this and stop to think, if you 
should ever want to do such a thing again, 
I shall have you wear the frock just as it 


grandpa’s house. 


189 


is. to Fanny’s party next Tuesday. You 
may have a white apron over it. but the 
pretty jacket must stay at home and the 
tucked waist too.” 

There was no help for it. Mamma al- 
ways meant what she said ; and though 
grandma wanted to mend the dress and 
Aunt Katy begged to do it herself, mamma 
said, no. So the red frock was hung up 
in Katy’s closet, and though nothing more 
was said, she knew very well that on 
Tuesday afternoon it would be brought 
out, with those two dreadful holes, just as 
her little scissors left them. Grandpa had 
to be told when he came home that night, 
and he thought mamma had judged wise- 
ly. So, Saturday and Sunday and Mon- 
day passed, and Tuesday afternoon came, 
almost before Katy knew it. 


CHAPTER XI. 


Tuesday morning had been such an ex- 
citing time in school, that it was quite as 
bad as the kite day. Almost every boy 
and girl there was to be at the party that 
afternoon, and every one of them had 
their heads so full of good times coming, 
that lessons would not be learned. Peter 
Perkins spelled “ party ” when Miss Owens 
put out the word “ harbor,” and Clara 
Perry and Sarah Allen had their hair 
braided in such tight tails, so that it might 
be frizzed for afternoon, that at recess, 
Spencer Hall made fun of them, and said 
they could n’t shut their eyes to save their 
lives. 

Miss Owens dismissed the school at noon, 
and the children went home, too excited 
to eat much ; and after dinner all the lit- 
tle girls dressed their dolls, and then were 
dressed themselves, and tormented their 
mothers with asking what time it was 


grandpa’s house. 191 

every five minutes, till half past two came, 
and they were allowed to start. 

Katy had gone home with the rest, and 
had the same difficulty about eating her 
dinner, and Rob and she had run down the 
walks afterward and tried to play ; but 
both were very glad when they were 
called into the house, and told that it was 
quite time to be ready. Katy had her 
hair curled over again, and a narrow scar- 
let velvet tied around the thick curls, to 
keep them out of her eyes ; and every 
thing felt like going to a party, till the 
scarlet dress was put on, and Katy winked 
hard to keep from crying as she looked 
down at the two holes. 

“ I ’m going to wear my prettiest apron, 
ain’t I mamma ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes,” said mamma ; “ a new one I 
have just finished ; ” and she took from 
the bed such a pretty, full, white apron, 
with a little tucked yoke, and delicate edge 
at the neck and wrists, that Katy almost 
forgot the holes, and went down in high 
spirits to show herself to grandpa and 
grandma. 


192 


grandpa’s house. 


Grandpa was making her a very low 
bow, when Rob walked in, so proud of his 
new suit he did n’t know what to do, but 
just a little bashful too, and grandpa made 
a bow to him, and then pretended he was 
so embarrassed at having such a fiyely 
dressed lady and gentleman in his room, 
that he kept on bowing backwards till he 
ran against the lounge, and fell down by 
grandma, and asked her to fan him and 
give him a peppermint lozenge, else he 
did n’t really think he could bear it. 

Then Katy took Maria and Josephine, 
the best looking dolls she had, and Rob 
and she went round to the gate between 
their house and that of Mr. Lawrence, and 
up the path to the front door, where the 
girl was standing ready to show all the 
children where to lay their things when 
they had taken them off, and then Mrs. 
Lawrence came in and kissed them both, 
and went down-stairs with them. 

Fanny stood in the middle of the room, 
and of all things, if there was n’t her 
cousin Anne from Claremont standing 
right by her ! A very fat little girl about 


grandpa’s house. 


193 


ten years old, in a white frock, and broad 
pink sash, and pink ribbons flying from 
her shoulders, who felt so fine she could 
hardly say “ How d’ye do,” to anybody. 
Peter Perkins stood in a corner, every 
hair brushed down so smoothly that a 
whirlwind could n’t have lifted one of 
them, and Spencer Hall, who had been 
going through with all sorts of motions 
behind him, told Johnny Adams who came 
in after a time, that “ he ’d been smelling 
of Peter Perkins’ head, and he’d got essence 
of peppermint, and sassafras, and winter- 
green on it, and was most a match for that 
stuck-up Anne, who ’d had a whole bottle 
of musk emptied on her, he guessed, before 
she came down.” 

Marion Morton wore a pink silk with 
lots of little flounces over it, and two 
bracelets and a gold chain. So she had 
to think of her clothes all the time, 
and could n’t enjoy herself half as much 
as if she had been dressed in a pretty 
simple frock which would bear some pull- 
ing. She had also a very splendid doll 
with her, who had a parasol and a bonnet 

13 • 


194 


grandpa’s house. 


made at a real milliner’s, and a hoop-skirt 
which prevented her sitting down, as it 
flew right up over her head whenever she 
did. The little girls thought they were 
to have fine times with this doll, but 
Marion was so afraid it would be spoiled 
if they handled it, that at last every one 
went away and left her with Miss Anne 
from Claremont. She did n’t want to play 
either, but talked about her nice clothes, 
and going to dancing school. 

“We’re going to dance pretty soon,” 
said Fanny. “ All that want to, — and 
maybe Anne will dance a polka. She can 
do it lovely.” 

“Then she ’ll have to dance alone,” 
said Johnny Adams. “ I can dance cotil- 
lons, and it’s good fun enough when there 
is n’t any thing else to do; but I don’t 
believe there ’s a boy here can dance a 
polka.” 

“ I can,” said Spencer Hall. “ I ’ve 
been to dancing school you know, and I ’ll 
go it with Miss Perfumery Bottle when 
the time comes.” 

Mrs. Lawrence saw that things were not 


grandpa’s house. 


195 


quite pleasant, and started u Bachelor’s 
kitchen,” which they all played awhile, 
and then began “ Stage-coach.” Every- 
body was changing places in the midst of 
a good many squeals and much confusion, 
when the door opened and such a queer 
little figure came walking in. It was Jamie 
Lawrence in his night-gown, his white 
hair sticking up straight, who looked about 
him in a confused kind of way, till hear- 
ing all the children laughing and seeing 
his mother on the other side of the room, 
he ran to her and hid his face in her dress. 

“ Why, Jamie, Jamie ! ” said she ; “ why 
did n’t you knock on the floor so that 
Aunty could come and dress you, and not 
run down so ? ” 

“ ’Cause I was in a hurry to get to the 
party,” said Jamie, as Aunty picked him 
up and went away with him. 

It seems Jamie had played so hard all 
the morning, that he was very tired after 
dinner, and his mother had put him on 
the bed to rest awhile, after she had given 
him his bath and slipped him into his 
night-gown. She never thought he would 


196 


grandpa's house. 


go sound asleep, as he did, not waking up 
till he heard all the children squealing in 
“ Stage-coach,” when he ran right down. 
Presently he came in again, his hair curled, 
and in — what do you think ? His very 
first jacket and trousers; so proud of them 
that he looked at them the whole time. 
Fanny said it was his birthday, and every- 
body must give him four kisses ; and so 
poor Jamie was passed around like a 
smelling-bottle, and even the boys kissed 
him. 

In the meantime it was getting toward 
half past five. Uncle Jack, who was to 
have come the day before, had been de- 
layed, and would not be with them till 
six, when all were to have supper. 

So Mrs. Lawrence said they would dance 
till then, and sat down to the piano. 
They had a cotillon which everybody 
danced, without thinking much about 
whether it was done just right or not. 
Miss Anne sat on the sofa and fanned her- 
self, and said cotillons were n’t fashionable ; 
her mother danced the lancers, and polkas, 
when she went to parties. 


grandpa’s house. 197 

“ Will you polk with me ? ” said Spencer 
Hall, coming up with a very low bow. 

" Yes,” said Miss Anne, delighted with a 
chance of showing off. “ Are you sure 
you know how ?” 

"Well, I guess so; try and see” 
answered Spencer; and Miss Anne, who 
had n’t watched her mother for nothing, 
gave her fan to Johnny Adams, who made 
a face behind it, and her handkerchief to 
Hiram Jones, and sailed off with Spencer. 
She really danced very prettily, and so 
did Spencer, and they kept excellent time 
as Mrs. Lawrence played “ Pride Polka.” 

All the children gathered around the 
piano and watched the pair. 

Anne put her head on one side, and was 
looking perfectly happy as well as per- 
fectly silly, when whisk into the room flew 
Jip the terrier, barking and leaping, tak- 
ing his course toward Johnny his master, 
right between the dancers, who, a little 
dizzy with their long whirl, stumbled, tried 
to recover their footing, and then fell in a 
grand tangle. Spencer’s foot caught in 
Anne’s hoop as they went down, and the 


198 


grandpa’s house. 


more he tried to get it out, the more he 
couldn’t. Jip, who thought it all had 
been done for his special amusement, flew 
around and on and over them, and at last 
seized an end of the pink sash and bit and 
pulled until it untied, when he trailed it 
off under the sofa, and had to be slapped 
before he would give it up. Mrs. Law- 
rence came to the rescue, untangled Spen- 
cer, and lifted up Miss Anne, who was cry- 
ing hard by this time. 

“ You ’re a hateful boy ! ” she sobbed to 
Spencer. “ You did it a-purpose I know. 
I ’ll get my mother to have that dog 
killed ; and don’t you ever ask me to 
dance with you again, you horrid, mean, 
ugly thing ! ” 

“ Come, come, Miss ! ” said Spencer ; “ I 
don’t like that kind o’ names. I did n’t 
bring the dog in.” 

' Miss Owens, who had got there just in 
time to see the fall, came forward. 

“ Come up-stairs with me, Anne,” she 
said, “ and I ’ll put you in as nice order 
as ever in a few moments ; ” and she took 
the long ribbon from Johnny, and walked 
away with her. 


grandpa’s house. 


199 


“ I guess she need n’t be afraid I ’ll ever 
ask her to dance again,” said Spencer, a 
little ashamed of this ending to their dis- 
play, and a good deal angry at being 
abused for the fall he could not help. 
Then his natural good nature came to his 
aid, and he began to laugh with the other 
children. 

“ Where did Jip come from?” asked 
Mrs. Lawrence. 

“ I don’t know,” said Johnny ; “ I locked 
him up in the wood-house the very last 
thing. Somebody must have gone in for 
wood and let him out, and he smelled his 
way right here. He always does find me 
out, no matter where I leave him.” 

By this time Anne was down again, and 
though disposed to be very stiff at first, 
smiled at last at Jip, who stood up on his 
hind legs before her, when Johnny ordered 
him, and held out his paw to shake hands. 
Spencer, w r ho had been whispering to Miss 
Owens in a corner, walked up now with 
another bow, and said he was very sorry 
she had had such a tumble, and if some- 
body would hold Jip, he would like another 


200 


grandpa’s house. 


turn with her by and by. Miss Anne 
smiled, and probably would have said 
“yes,” if a little bell had not tinkled in 
another room, and Mrs. Lawrence said that 
supper was ready. 

“ I knew it was ready,” said Lucy Per- 
kins to Sarah Allen. “ I peeked in at the 
door when you was all looking at them 
on the floor, and there ’s heaps on the 
table, — blue monge and every thing.” 

Jamie, being the most important person 
there and the one for whom the party 
was given, was told to pick out the nicest 
girl and take her in on his arm ; and after 
looking at everybody, selected his mother. 

“ You ’re nicer than any of ’em, mam- 
ma,” he said, “ so I ’ll take you.” 

“Oh no,” laughed mamma, “ take a lit- 
tle girl.” 

“ Don’t want ’em,” said Jamie ; “ rather 
have you.” And while he walked on tip- 
toe and made himself tall as he could, 
mamma made herself as short as she could, 
and they went in together, followed by the 
children, who stood about the room, and 
had all the good things you can think of. 


grandpa's house. 


201 


In the centre of the table was a large 
cake, with “ Jamie ” on it in sugar letters. 

“We ’re all to have a slice o’ that cake,” 
said Fanny, “and we mustn’t eat very 
fast, for there ’s something in it.” 

“ Oh, what ? ” said Sarah Allen. “ You 
don’t mean there ’s a ring in it ! ” 

“Yes I do ; a real ring,” answered 
Fanny ; “ don’t I hope I ’ll get it ? ” 

“ I should think it would be more polite 
to hope some o’ your company would,” 
said Peter Perkins, with his mouth full of 
pound-cake* but just that minute there 
was a noise in the hall, and then the din- 
ing-room door flew open and a tall gentle- 
man with bright eyes, and hair that stood 
up in a wonderful way all over his head, 
came walking in, leaning on a cane, and 
stopped, pretending to be so frightened he 
could not take another step. 

“ A party ! ” he said ; “ what a thing to 
do, and never let me know a word about 
it. I must go right back again.” 

“ Don’t you,” screamed Jamie and Fanny 
and Johnny Adams all together; “Uncle 
Jack, don’t you ! ” and Uncle Jack, who 


202 


gkandpa’s house. 


had n’t the least idea of doing any such 
thing, was dragged forward and hugged, 
and helped to every thing at once. 

“Wait a minute,” said he; “I mean, 
don’t wait a minute. I ’m coming back in 
a jiff,” and he walked out into the hall. 

“Ain’t he a funny man?” said Katy ; 
and had hardly asked the question, before 
he was back again. 

How had he managed to do so much in 
such a little while ? for from every button 
and button-hole there hung a candy horn ; 
not little miserable ones, such as were to 
be had in the candy store for twelve cents 
apiece, but pink, and blue, and gilt ones, 
with gay pictures and bright ribbons on 
them. The children forgot their supper 
and crowded around him ; twenty-three ot 
them, and there were twenty-three horns, 
two hanging around each ear, and one 
from every button and button-hole as I 
have said. 

Uncle Jack flourished about, not drop- 
ping one of them, till Jamie made a dash 
at him, and the other children followed, 
and at last each one was in somebody’s 


grandpa’s house. 


203 


hand, even Hiram Jones crunching away 
on a burnt almond, and appearing to like 
it just as well as if he had been four 
instead of fourteen. 

“ This kind of thing will never do,” 
said Uncle Jack suddenly ; “ look at that 
cake ; who’s going to eat it ? ” 

“ Me,” said Jamie ; “ cut it, Uncle Jack ; ” 
and Uncle Jack took the great knife, and 
cut such slices as never were seen. What 
a time it took to eat them, for a whisper 
of what was in the cake had gone through 
the room, and each one was sure the ring 
would be in their slice. 

“ Holloa ! ” said Spencer Hall all at once, 
and turning quite red as he drew from 
between his teeth the little gold ring. 
a That ’s great ! I did n’t know I was 
going to get it.” 

Miss Anne from Claremont had been 
crooking her little finger as genteelly as 
she could, while she ate her slice, and Lucy 
Perkins had almost broken hers in two, 
trying to do just like her, both thinking 
they were sure to get the ring, and now 
Miss Anne almost threw her slice on the 
table. 


204 


grandpa’s house. 


" Hateful old cake ! ” she said ; "I’m 
sure I don’t want any more. I think one 
o’ the girls might have got it.” 

" I ’ve got one ring/’ said Spencer ; 
" one that ma gave me. I say ; let the 
girls draw lots for this. I don’t want it.” 

" All right,” said Uncle Jack, who 
seemed to remember where every thing 
was, for he took paper and scissors from 
one of the sideboard drawers, and began 
to cut strips. 

" Fourteen girls,” he said, looking about 
as he cut, "so I want fourteen strips. 
Now I ’ll put them in my hat and shake 
them up, and you girls may each put your 
hands in and take one, and whoever has 
the longest will own the ring.” 

All came around him, and it is curious 
that Miss Anne and Marion Morton, who 
had more rings than all the other little 
girls put together, looked more eager than 
any of them. There was only one long 
strip, and thirteen short ones just alike. 
Lucy Perkins looked ready to bite some 
one when she found she had a short strip, 
and so did Miss Anne, and everybody was 


grandpa’s house. 


205 


astonished when the long one was held up 
by little Calista Jones, the poorest child 
there, who but for this might never have 
owned a ring till she had grown up, and 
who looked perfectly happy as Uncle 
Jack slipped it on her small, red finger. 
Katy thought for a moment that she 
should have liked to see it on her own, 
but was glad on the whole that Calista 
had it, and Mrs. Lawrence said to Miss 
Owens : 

“I ought to have thought that this 
might make ill feeling. I shall not try 
such an experiment again.” 

“ Everybody through supper ? ” said Un- 
cle Jack; “ then back to the parlor with 
you ; ” and the children flocked in. Things 
had altered while they were at supper. 
The folding-doors were wflde open, and 
in their place hung a white sheet ; there 
were no lights in the back parlor, and 
only one little one in the front, stand- 
ing on the table in the centre of the 
room, and by it quite a pile of what 
looked as much like old box covers as 
any thing. 


206 


grandpa’s house. 


Spencer Hall lifted one ; a half oval 
piece of pasteboard with a round hole 
here, and a little square one there, and 
slits cut almost any way. What could 
they be ? The chairs had all been moved 
to the upper end of the room, and more 
brought in. 

“ Sit down, children,” said Uncle Jack, 
“ and pretty soon you ’ll see something ; ” 
and they all took their places, and waited 
curiously, while Uncle Jack turned over 
the pile and seemed to be arranging it, 
and then took from his pocket a little 
box, which on being opened, showed more 
pasteboard scraps, each one numbered, 
which he emptied on the table. 

Lucy Perkins was sitting next to Katy, 
who had had such a good time that she 
had hardly thought once of her dress since 
she came. 

Lucy felt so spiteful about the ring, 
she did n’t know what to do, and glancing 
down at Katy who was looking very ear- 
nestly over to Uncle Jack, Lucy saw that 
she was wearing the same red frock which 
she had shown off at school a few days 
before. 


grandpa’s house. 


207 


“ Ho ! ” said she, “ before I ’d wear a 
frock to a party that had to be mended ; 
I ’d be ashamed;” and Lucy jerked at a 
corner of the apron, intending to look at 
the patches, which she supposed were 
there. 

“ Don’t,” said Katy, pulling away from 
her. 

“ I will too,” said Lucy. 

“ Don’t, please don’t,” repeated Katy, 
who could n’t bear to have anybody know ; 
and she stood up in her chair to get away 
from Lucy, but Lucy persisted, and suc- 
ceeded in pulling up the apron and dis- 
playing the round holes, just as Uncle 
Jack, hearing some disturbance, turned 
around quickly, holding up the lamp. 

“Why, what a funny frock,” said he; 
“ what ’s the trouble ? ” 

Lucy Perkins spoke up : 

“ She cut them holes with her new scis- 
sors, sir; she’s always doing some mis- 
chief.” 

Poor Katy burst into tears as Uncle 
Jack put down the lamp again, and Rob 
sprang forward to reach her, not much 


208 


grandpa’s house. 


caring who he w r alked over as he did so. 
Lucy Perkins gave him a sly pinch as he 
stepped over her. 

“ Oh, you do that, do you ? ” said Spen- 
cer Hall, who sat next to her ; “ then you 
see what you get;” and he gave one of 
Lucy’s red curls a very sharp pull. 

“ You nasty thing ! ” screamed Lucy ; 
and Uncle Jack turned, astonished at this 
sudden trouble, while Mrs. Lawrence and 
Miss Owens came in hastily, bringing the 
large lamp. 

“ What’s it all about ? ” said Uncle Jack. 

“ I ’ll tell you,” said Spencer, still indig- 
nant, and he did tell the whole kite story, 
while Katy cried, and Rob stood with his 
arm about her, ready to fight Uncle Jack 
himself if he dared make fun of her. 

“Katy’s a trump,” said lie, as Spencer 
ended with, 

“ And that ’s the way it was, and Lucy 
Perkins ’s mean as dirt, so now,” and sat 
down by her with a jerk. 

“That means,” Uncle Jack went on, 
“ that she ’s a first-rate girl, and I ’m proud 
to know her. Come, come, though ; don’t 











grandpa’s house. 


209 


call any names, but settle down now in 
peace and quietness and see what you will 
see. Off with your lamp, big people ; eyes 
wide open, little ones. Now attention ! 
The full and particular history of 

‘ Old Mother Hubbard, 

Who went to her cupboard, 

To get her poor dog a bone.’ ” 

The children saw all at once a closet 
with open door, and the very old Mother 
Hubbard herself, reaching up for a bone, 
all in shadow on the white sheet. The 
dog stood up when he thought the bone 
was coming, and laid down again when he 
did n’t get it. 

“ She went to the baker’s 
To get him some bread,” 

repeated Uncle Jack very slowly, and old 
Mother Hubbard went along and out of 
sight at the end of the sheet, and as she 
went, the dog stretched himself out and 
lay there stiff. 

“ When she came back, 

The poor dog was dead,” 

sighed Uncle Jack, as she appeared again. 

So they went through the whole thing 

14 


210 


grandpa’s house. 


from beginning to end, the shadows on the 
sheet doing just as the rhymes said. At 
the very last, when 

“ The dame made a curtsey 
The dog made a bow, 

The dame said — your servant, 

The dog said — bow wow ! ’ ’ 

there came such a bow wow from the 
sheet, that the little ones were almost 
frightened and the big ones puzzled. 

“ Oh, how was it ? Do show how you 
did it,” all said, crowding about Uncle 
Jack, and surprised to find Mrs. Lawrence 
also sitting by the table, all those little 
scraps before her. 

“Well,” said Uncle Jack; “this way. 
It takes a good deal of practice to have 
every thing just right. Now here ’s Moth- 
er Hubbard,” and he held up a piece of 
pasteboard, the very one Spencer Hall had 
looked at. “ Here ’s the dog, too,” he said, 
and he showed one of the little pieces. 
“ I look out for the dog and Mrs. Hubbard, 
and mamma here, takes care of the cup- 
board, and the goat, and the pie-dish, and 
such, and holds them up at just the right 


grandpa's house. 


211 


moment, so that their shadows fall in the 
right place on the sheet, and then you see 
them.” 

“ What did the bark ? ” asked Katy. 

“Jip, in the back parlor,” said Uncle 
Jack. “Miss Owens pulled his tail, just 
when I wanted her to, and Jip barked at 
the very minute Mother Hubbard's dog 
did.” 

“Well, but I can’t see as these pieces 
look like any thing at all,” said Hiram 
Jones. “Do it over again, do ; ” and Uncle 
Jack held up the pasteboard and there 
was Mrs. Hubbard once more. 

The older children stood for some time 
talking over the matter, and in the mean 
time lamps had been brought in, and the 
folding-doors closed. Now they opened 
again, the sheet this time hanging only 
half-way down to a table which had been 
mysteriously placed there. Everybody 
exclaimed, and then crowded up about the 
table, though the little ones held back, 
and hardly dared, till they saw Miss Owens 
walk up. 

There on the table stood a little man, 


212 


grandpa's house. 


all boots and head it seemed. Such a 
head, wearing a great stove-pipe hat, and 
such a pair of boots, coining up to his very 
shoulders almost, and such enormous hands, 
waving about over a waistcoat which 
looked to Fanny just like one of her 
father’s. How the hands behaved, too ; 
pulling their owner’s hair, and knocking 
off his hat, and slapping his face, and at 
last giving his nose such a twist, that the 
mouth shut right on the fingers as they 
passed it, and somebody said u Ow, ow ! ” 
very loud. All at once there were no 
hands there, and the boots rolled to the 
floor, and two arms came out of them, and 
the children found that this speck of a 
man was made of two people ; one stand- 
ing before the table and putting his arms 
into a pair of boots to make the legs, and 
somebody behind the sheet putting their 
arms over his shoulders, and having a 
waistcoat and coat slipped on them, so that 
altogether they made the dwarf. 

How they all laughed, and how aston- 
ished they were when suddenly the tall 
clock in the dining-room struck one, two, 
three, four, five, six, seven, eight ! 


grandpa’s house. 


213 


“ ’ T is n’t eight/’ said Peter Perkins ; 
“ it can’t be ; ” but it certainly was, and 
time for everybody to go home, which 
none of them wanted to do. 

Miss Owens took charge of some of 
them, and Uncle Jack said he wanted to 
see to Katy, for he should like to walk 
home with her better than almost any 
young lady he knew. 

He did walk home with her really, and 
she did n’t take one step herself either; 
for when they went out of the door, Un- 
cle Jack suddenly tossed her up to his 
shoulder, and she rode into the parlor at 
grandma’s with the brightest eyes and the 
reddest cheeks you ever saw. Mamma 
did n’t take her to bed at once, for where 
would have been the use when she was so 
wide awake ; and Rob and she gave such 
an account of the shadow pantomime, 
that mamma said she should never give 
another child’s party unless Uncle Jack 
was there to entertain them. Katy did n’t 
go to bed till ten, and felt almost grown 
up, and so did Rob, when they remem- 
bered that this was the third time in their 


214 grandpa’s house. 

lives when they had sat up as long as the 
big people. 

Next day mamma took the little dress, 
and as it was very full, cut out the part 
where the two holes were, so that you 
would never know any thing had happened 
to it. Katy wore it once more, jacket 
and all, and then it was laid away for fall. 
Some day you may hear of it again, but 
not in this book. One chapter more, and 
then you must say good-by to little Katy 
till I have time to tell you other stories of 
her; and if that time should never come 
to me, you can think to yourselves, and 
then tell to your dolls all the things that 
Katy did, and perhaps some that Katy 
did n’t. 


CHAPTER XII. 


It was the sixth of July. Katy and 
Rob were under the crab-apple tree, look- 
ing up to the robin which twittered there 
to the young ones on the nest, and grand- 
ma, and mamma, and Aunt Katy, sat on the 
front steps, looking over to Cornish hills. 
The evening train had come in half an 
hour before, and grandpa would very soon 
be up from the post-office. Mamma looked 
a little anxious now and then as she 
watched for him, for no letters had come 
from papa for a long time, not even in an- 
swer to the one which Katy had printed 
herself in every sized letter you can think 
of, and sent to him in one of mamma’s 
more than a month ago. So she was 
watching too, and ran down now to the 
front gate with Rob, as she saw grandpa 
walking in, very fast indeed. 

“ Got a letter, grandpa ? ” said she. 

“ No,” answered grandpa ; “ something as 


216 


grandpa’s house. 


good though/’ and he waved his cane as he 
reached the top of the first flight of steps, 
and shouted, “ Vicksburg is taken ! Hur- 
rah ! ” 

Mamma turned quite pale. This was 
grand news, but a city taken meant killed 
and wounded soldiers, and dreadful lists of 
names in the papers, through which she 
had looked many a time in this last year, 
trying to think papa’s name could not be 
there. They were all very still now as 
she took the paper from grandpa’s hand, 
and looked eagerly down the columns, 
while Katy’s arm stole about her neck. 
No list there. The city had surrendered 
at last without a battle, and the long wait- 
ing time was over. Mamma’s eyes were 
full of tears as she handed back the pa- 
per, but they were very happy ones, and 
grandpa standing there read the news to 
them. 

Uncle Jack, who had come from New 
York a day or two before, came through 
the gate between the two places, followed 
by Fanny and Jamie, who really ought to 
have been in bed, for it was after seven. 


grandpa’s house. 


217 


“ Why could n’t we have known about it 
on the Fourth ? ” said Uncle Jack. “ What 
a shame to waste all those fire-crackers 
on 1776, Rob, when 1863 is so much finer ! 
Do you know I ’m going away to-morrow, 
children ? ” 

“ I don’t see why,” said Katy. " Why 
don’t you stay here always ? Ain’t there 
anybody you might marry ? ” 

“ Nobody but you, Katj^,” said Uncle 
Jack, laughing, “ and you ’re almost too 
small to make all the mince-pies I should 
want.” 

“ I could make you teenty ones in a 
saucer, ’cause I did once,” said Katy, " and 
mamma could do the other things ; gin- 
gerbread and biscuit, you know.” 

"Well, I’ll think about it,” said Uncle 
Jack. " Perhaps you will know how to 
make biscuit yourself when I come home 
again, for this time I shall be gone a long 
while, I hope. I should have been back 
long ago, but this wound in my leg would 
stay open, and is in fact inclined to do so 
now.” 

" Where do you go ? ” asked grandpa. 


218 


grandpa’s house. 


“Port Hudson/’ replied Uncle Jack, 
“ which ought to have gone down before 
Vicksburg ; but as it did n’t, I shall be in 
time for more trench duty probably.” 

Miss Owens came up the steps just then, 
going through grandpa’s on her way home, 
and stopped a few moments to talk over 
the news. Uncle Jack stood up as she 
said good-by. 

“ I must say that too,” said he, “ for as I 
go out in the early train, I shall not see 
you all again ; ” and he shook hands with 
each, giving Katy a great hug, and then 
walked on with Miss Owens, looking taller 
and broader than ever, for she was only a 
little woman after all, though she seemed 
so large to Katy. 

Next morning at recess, the boys fol- 
lowed the girls down to the log, and 
Spencer Hall, who had been looking very 
important, and whispering to everybody 
before school began, sat down on a stone 
and said : — 

“ Now, girls, we ’re going to trust you, 
and if one of you tells, we won’t any of us 
speak to her again till school ’s done.” 


grandpa’s house. 


219 


“ No great loss,” said Lucy Perkins : 
“’t ain’t but four days more anyhow.” 

“ Well, then, seeing you ain’t anxious to 
know, I guess we’ll leave you out,” said 
Spencer. 66 Run away, Pepper-box, and I ’ll 
tell the others.” 

Now if there was any thing in the world 
that Lucy could n’t bear, it was the not 
knowing from beginning to end all about 
every thing that went on ; so, though she 
had scowled when Spencer said “ Pepper- 
box,” she smoothed her face at once and 
said : — 

“ J ust as though you did n’t know I was 
only in fun ! I can keep a secret as good 
as Katy Stuart, any way. You see now.” 

“ All right,” said Spencer. “ Come close, 
so that Miss Owens won’t hear. Now you 
see, school ’ll be done in four days, — three, 
really, ’cause the last day ’s exhibition, and 
we do.n’t say lessons, — and soon as it ’s 
done, Miss Owens is going home to Massa- 
chusetts, and there ain’t going to be any 
more school till fall, this year.” 

“ Well, we know all that,” said Lucy, 
66 so where ’s your secret ? ” 


220 


grandpa’s house. 


“Shut up !” said Spencer, “if you want 
to know. Ten of us boys is going to give 
ten cents a-piece, and the rest say they 11 
give all they can, so ’s to make it a dollar 
and a half ; more, maybe. Now what 11 
you girls give ? ” 

“ What for ? ” said Lucy Perkins. “ I 
ain’t going to give my money for you to 
spend, Spencer Hall. Ain’t you great ? ” 

“We want it to buy a present for Miss 
Owens, you goose you,” said Spencer. 
“ That ’s the way they used to do at my 
school in New York. We always gave 
the teacher something there. There ’s 
a beautiful fruit-knife down to Lewty’s 
store, and when I told him we ’d like it 
for Miss Owens, if we got money enough, 
he said he ’d let it go for only three dol- 
lars ; and Aunt Martha says if we can’t 
make up just the three, why she will.” 

“ I ain’t going to give any thing,” said 
Lucy. “ Miss Owens gets paid, and that ’s 
enough.” 

“Oh you stingy thing,” said Peter. 
“You’ve got more money in your bank 
than I have.” 


grandpa’s house. 221 

"I haven’t/’ said Lucy; “ we’ve both 
got just the same ; so now.” 

u So w T e did have/’ said Peter ; 66 but 
did n’t Aunt Tempy take twenty cents 
o’ mine, ’cause I broke a window ? I 
have n’t got but thirty-two left, and ten 
o’ that I ’m going to give to Spencer.” 

“ You can if you want to,” said Lucy, 
getting up and walking away. “ I ain’t 
going to give a cent. Unless I ’m a mind 
to,” she added, as she saw the little girls 
looking ashamed of her. 

“ All right,” said Spencer, taking a long 
strip of paper from his pocket. “ Hiram 
wrote all the names here, and I ’ve put 
down what the boys gave. Even Eddy 
Culligan, that goes barefoot half the win- 
ter, gave two cents he got for holding a 
horse ; but Miss Pepper-box Perkins, that ’s 
got a bank with fifty-two cents in it, don’t 
feel able. Oh no ! she could n’t give any 
thing ! ” and Spencer made a very round 
cipher after Lucy’s name. “ Don’t that 
add up pretty, now ? Lucy Perkins, 
naught, and carry one that somebody else 
will give. Oh, get out ! ” 


222 


grandpa’s house. 


“ So I will, you hateful thing,” said Lucy, 
running back to the school-room, where 
from her red eyes, when the bell rang and 
the children came in, they concluded she 
must have been crying. 

Lucy put on her hat, and ran off the 
moment school ended that day, not wait- 
ing for any of the little girls to walk home 
with her, and went right up to her room, 
when she reached the house. Aunt 
Tempy had gone somewhere to tea, for 
two bowls of milk and a plate of bread 
were on the table, just as she always left 
them when she did not expect to get back 
till evening. 

Lucy took her bank and went down 
stairs to the kitchen, meaning to get all her 
money out and count it, and think whether 
she possibly could spare any ; but hearing 
Peter coming, she ran down to the lower 
end of the garden, among the currant bush- 
es. Here was a place, where, when good- 
natured, she and Peter very often played. 
Somebody had once dug here a well, which 
for some reason never had had any water 
in it, but staid just so dry, year after year. 


grandpa’s house. 


223 


Bushes grew around so thickly, you would 
not know it was there unless told, and 
little plants sprouted out between the 
stones, all the way down. In the winter 
it filled with snow, almost to the very top 
sometimes, which staid there till long after 
it had melted everywhere else. 

Lucy sat down on a flat stone close by 
and began to bend back the roof of the 
bank, when she heard Peter, who had been 
running through the house, call out : — 

“ I say, boys ; come in a while. Aunt 
Tempy’s gone away. Let’s have some 
fun.” 

Spencer, and Johnny Adams, and Steve 
Kendall, and one or two others flocked in, 
running from one place to another till at 
last they all made a rush for the old well. 
Lucy hid behind a bush, not wanting them 
to see her bank, and meaning to run up to 
the house when they were out of the way. 

66 Look a here now,” said Spencer. 
“ I ’ve got a new game. That well ain’t 
so very deep. Let ’s play Joseph and his 
brethren, and I ’ll be Joseph if nobody 
else will, and you can put me in there.” 


224 grandpa’s house. 

"Well, but Joseph was n’t put in the 
pit,” said Peter ; " he was only a-going to be. 
There ain’t enough of us to be Egyptians 
too, and so come along and buy you off.” 

" Well then, I tell you,” said Spencer, 
after a minute of thinking, " I ’ll be a 
runaway slave, and you shall all be slave 
drivers after me, and I ’ll hide in the well 
when I ’rn most dead running, you know. 
Bully ! There ’s Jip, and he ’ll do for a 
blood-hound. Now I ’ll hide in the cur- 
rant bushes, and run when I hear you 
coming, round the barn and everywhere,” 
and Spencer made a dash for the currant 
bushes, and plunged into Lucy, who 
crouched behind them. 

"What you here for?” said he. "I 
say, Lucy ; you play too. Be a good 
Quaker in the barn, and when I ’ve got 
through hiding in the well, I ’ll come to 
you when they are all gone, and get helped 
across the river.” 

" Well,” said Lucy, a good deal inter- 
ested, " I ’ll be picking currants for jelly 
for the soldiers or something, so ’s to see 
the chase, and I ’ll go to the barn when 
you get into the well.” 


grandpa's house. 


225 


Lucy stood there for some time, watch- 
ing Spencer pursued by the six slave 
drivers, and Jip the blood-hound. At 
last, very closely pushed, he jumped over 
the low stone wall, and ran down the 
meadow toward the pond, and Lucy, after 
waiting some minutes for his return, got 
tired, and sat down again to count her 
money. This time she pried up the 
corner and emptied it all out. One 
precious silver quarter, given to her three 
years before by Aunt Tempy, and the rest 
all in pennies; some great, big old-fash- 
ioned ones, two or three almost too bat- 
tered to be good for any thing, and some 
few bright and new. Lucy gathered them 
all into her hands, and wished there were 
more, and thought how could she give 
away one, and yet she must. 

At last she picked out the three bat- 
tered ones, and put them in her pocket 
to give to Spencer before he went home, 
and was putting the others back into her 
bank, saving the quarter for the last, so as 
to see it shining as long as she could, 
when whisk through the bushes came Jip, 

15 


226 


grandpa’s house. 


knocking the bank from her hand, and roll 
went the silver quarter, over the stones 
and down the well, with one little clink 
against the side before it touched bottom. 

“ Oh my money ! ” screamed Lucy, look- 
ing down and then crying aloud. 

“ Hullo ! what ’s up ? ” said Spencer, 
coming up, and in his surprise forgetting 
to hide. 

“ My silver quarter ’s rolled down the 
well,” sobbed Lucy ; “ down to the very 
bottom, and I won’t ever see it again. 
Oh ! ” 

“ Served you right for being so stingy,” 
began Spencer, but stopped, really sorry 
as he saw her distress. “ I say, boys,” said 
he, as the slave drivers came rushing up, 
“ Lucy ’s dropped her quarter down the 
well. How ’ll we go to work to get it ? ” 

“ Climb down,” said Johnny Adams. 

“ I was going down any way,” said Spen- 
cer after a minute, “ so I may as well go 
now, I guess,” and stepping to the edge he 
began the descent without hesitating. It 
was not hard work after all, for the well 
was stoned all the way down, and he 


grandpa’s house. 


227 


could step from one to another, but it grew 
pretty dark, and was muddy too when he 
touched bottom, and altogether he did n’t 
like it. 

“ Bring a light, Pete ! ” he shouted ; and 
after some time Peter appeared with a 
tallow candle, tied to a long string, which 
he let down to Spencer, who searched 
about, but found no trace of the quarter. 

“ It ’s gone into the mud,” he called at 
last, “ and I can’t find it any way.” And 
he began to climb up, coming out to the 
light presently, a good deal scratched and 
very muddy. 

“ There ’s the three cents for Miss 
Owens,” said Lucy. “ Might as well take 
’em all, now that my quarter ’s gone,” and 
she ran to the house still crying. 

“ It ’s kinder mean to take ’em, ain’t it ? ” 
said Spencer, “ when she ’s lost so much ? ” 

“ No,” said Peter ; “ do her good not to 
be stingy for once. She ’s most as bad as 
Aunt Tempy, and she ’s the stingiest crit- 
ter that ever was.” 

“ Oh she is, is she ? ” said a voice behind 
them. “ I just left them bowls o’ milk a 


228 


grandpa’s house. 


purpose, and come back early so ’s to see 
how you and Lucy behaved when you was 
left to yourselves. This is the way, is it ; 
bringin’ in all creation, and tramplin’ down 
every thing ? ” and Miss Tempy charged on 
the boys with a long switch, while they 
ran down the path laughing, and out to the 
road. 

Poor Peter could n’t run away though, 
and was switched all the way up-stairs and 
into bed, where he had to go without any 
supper, while Lucy had no comfort in her 
trouble, but was ordered off too, for hav- 
ing given any of her money away with- 
out asking leave. It would have been 
hard work any way for her to be very good, 
you see, and after this you will not won- 
der at many ugly things about her. 

By the next afternoon, Spencer had col- 
lected the three dollars, all except seven- 
teen cents, which Aunt Martha made up. 
Almost all the children begged to go with 
him, when he went to the jeweler’s, till 
he said it would never do, because Miss 
Owens would see them and find out about 
it may be. So Spencer went alone after 


grandpa’s house. 


229 


school, and felt very grand as he waited 
with the three dollars in his hand, while 
Mr. Lewty marked the knife, “ M. F. 0.,” 
for Mary Frances Owens, and then laid it 
in pink cotton in a little box and tied it 
up. 

Spencer felt doubtful as to the best way 
of giving it ; so doubtful, that at last he 
decided to ask Mrs. Stuart, for whose opin- 
ion he had great respect, and who was 
very much pleased with the knife when 
she saw it. 

"I should just say in a little note, ‘ For 
our teacher, ’ ” said Mrs. Stuart ; “ and let 
each of the boys and girls sign their 
names, and then you can lay it on her 
desk the last thing Friday.” 

“ They can’t all write,” said Spencer. 

“ They can all print,” said Mrs. Stuart, 
“ and Miss Owens will like to see all your 
names. Here is some paper I have had a 
long time, which will be just the thing,” 
and Mrs. Stuart took from her writing-desk 
a sheet of paper with a bright wreath of 
flowers all around it. 

“ Why, it ’s like Valentine paper,” said 


230 grandpa’s house. 

Spencer. a Ain’t it nice ? I ’ll get Hiram 
to write in the middle,” and Spencer ran 
home delighted. 

Hiram did write in the middle, "For 
the best teacher in the world,” and next 
morning, after wondering how he should 
manage about the names, Spencer asked 
Miss Owens if she would n’t please go 
away at recess and leave them all alone. 
If Miss Owens suspected, she did n’t show 
it, but only laughed and said, " Yes ; ” and 
after she had gone out, all the boys and 
girls signed their names, some in writing 
and some in print, and every one of them 
did it so hard that their middle fingers 
were fairly steeped in ink when they had 
ended. Lucy felt very glad on the whole 
that she could sign her name there. She 
was the last, and when she had done, the 
sheet of paper was folded and’ put into a 
gay envelope which matched it, and then 
Hiram Jones wrote, " Miss Mary F. Ow- 
ens,” on it, and put it in his desk to keep 
till after school. 

It had been planned at first to have a 
grand exhibition at the close of school, 


grandpa’s house. 


231 


joining with one or two others in town, 
and perhaps all meeting in the town-hall, 
to speak pieces and sing songs, and may- 
be a dialogue, and have everybody there 
to see them. The committee, of which 
old Governor Butler was one, had decided 
that it should not be so this year. Many 
of the fathers and uncles were away at 
the war; some dead since the last term 
began, and some wounded or sick in hos- 
pital, and the Governor said that the 
money which would be used in hiring the 
town-hall, and the music, might better be 
spent in good things for the soldiers. The 
children were disappointed, for the little 
girls had thought a good deal of white 
dresses and blue sashes, and the boys of 
blue ribbons in their button-holes, and all 
walking in procession through the village, 
but they had to be contented with talking 
of what they would do next year. 

Miss Owens had not told them till 
Wednesday that there would be no exhibi- 
tion, and if they had not been taken up with 
their intended present there would have 
been much more grumbling than there 


232 


grandpa’s house. 


was. Spencer had thought a good deal of 
the fine bow he should make when he 
walked up before everybody and laid the 
fruit-knife on Miss Owens’ desk. To tell 
the real truth, he had practiced it in his 
own room, with the door locked, and his 
looking-glass standing on a chair so that 
he might get the full effect, and it was a 
little trying to lose it all. Don’t you 
think so ? 

Friday morning came at last, and Katy 
and Rob were crazy to go to school right 
after breakfast, as if the knife would be 
given any the sooner for that. 

“ Let them go,” said grandpa. “ They 
won’t have school again for six weeks at 
least, and they ’re coming home at noon ; ” 
and mamma said, “ Yes,” of course. 

“ Wait a minute,” said grandpa. u Come 
to think, Tim is going to Springfield to- 
day, and if you wait he may take you, 
and pick up any of the school children 
you may meet going along.” 

“ Goody,” said Katy, and to pass away 
the time till Tim was ready, went down to 
the meadows to see if by any chance a 
harvest apple might have ripened. 


grandpa's house. 233 

“ Where are yees thin ? ” came Tim’s 
voice from the bank above, and they ran 
up to find the great farm wagon waiting 
for them. 

Fanny Lawrence was on hand of course, 
and Jamie, who was going to school fo.r 
the first time in his life, on the very last 
day. Before they got to Common Hill, 
J ohnny Adams and Spencer Hall and 
Hiram Jones piled in, delighted with the 
chance ; and then Miss Owens, who came 
walking along a few minutes afterward, 
and was helped in by Hiram ; and then 
Laura Kendall, and little Ed. Culligan, 
who had been to the village to do an 
errand for his mother, and who did n’t 
have a ride every day ; and last, Lucy and 
Peter Perkins, who from their gate saw 
the wagon coming, and ran forward to 
meet it. 

“ 0 Tim ! ” said Katy suddenly, “ I 
did n’t tell you about Lucy Perkins’ quar- 
ter, did I?” 

“You did not thin,” said Tim; “an’ 
what ov it ? ” and Katy told the story at 


once. 


234 


grandpa’s house. 


“ I think I might be findin’ that,” said 
Tim, as she finished. 

“ Oh, could you ? ” said Lucy in so much 
pleasanter fashion than usual, that Tim, 
who had just reached Miss Tempy’s gate, 
stopped his horses. 

tt There ’s plenty of time before school,” 
said Spencer ; “ let ’s all go in, and see if 
Tim can do it any better than I did.” 

Every one got out of the big wagon, 
and went in at the gate. Miss Tempy 
stood in the door, and if it had been only 
the children, would have sent them off at 
once, but seeing Miss Owens and Tim, 
began to be afraid she was going to have 
a surprise party. 

“ Good morning, Miss Tempy,” said Miss 
Owens. “ Tim thinks he can find Lucy’s 
quarter, and has come in to try.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Miss Tempy ; “ well, he 
may if he’s a mind to,” and she went in 
and shut the door, while the children and 
all walked down to the well. 

“ A bit o’ candle an’ a match,” said Tim, 
and Peter ran for them, coming back in a 
minute ; and Tim went down and was gone 


grandpa’s house. 235 

so long, they began to be afraid something 
bad happened. 

“ I ’ve got it,” he shouted at last, in a 
voice which sounded very queer coming 
from the bottom of a well. “ I ’ve got it 
and more,” and presently Tim appeared, 
holding out the very muddy quarter to 
Lucy, who rubbed it on the grass, and 
then wiped it on her apron, and at last 
ran into the house with it, coming out 
presently with a slice of gingerbread, 
which she handed to Tim, as his reward 
for going down. 

“ What else did you get, Tim ? ” asked 
Rob. 

“ This,” said Tim, feeling in his waist- 
coat pocket, and pulling out a very dingy 
short pipe. “ No, that ’s not it ; here it is,” 
and from the other pocket, he took the 
least speck of a turtle, which put out its 
head, and looked at the children as if it 
knew all about them. 

“Now, in with yees,” said Tim; “my 
time ’s up,” and they all got back into the 
wagon again. 


236 


grandpa’s house. 


“ That ’s my turtle/’ said Peter, “ ’cause 
it came out of our well.” 

“ ’ Tain’t, it ’s mine, ’cause I ’m the old- 
est,” said Lucy. 

“No such a thing,” said Spencer; “it 
ought to belong to all of us.” 

“ It ’s ours,” said Katy. “ Rob’s and 
mine, ’cause Tim found it, and he ’s 
grandpa’s man.” 

“ I think it belongs to Tim,” said Miss 
Owens, “ and I want Tim to give it to 
me.” 

“ I will thin, ma’am,” said Tim with a 
laugh, and looking round to see what she 
would do. 

“ Turtles live to be very old indeed,” 
said she ; “ over a hundred years often, 
and now I ’ll tell you what we will do. 
We will let Hiram mark the day of the 
month and the year on the turtle’s back, 
and let it go. They never travel very 
far, and perhaps years and years from 
now, when you are all men and women, 
some one of you will pick it up, and know 
it to be the same one you marked so long 
ago.” 


grandpa’s house. 


237 


“ He ’s too little to mark/’ said Hiram. 
“ His shell ’ll grow, and we won’t know.” 

“ Try it,” said Miss Owens ; and so 
Hiram scratched the date on the turtle’s 
back, and then dropped it from the wagon. 

They were at the school-room door 
now, and all went in to find it a little past 
nine, and to wonder where the time had 
gone. They had only a review of the 
week’s lessons, and whispered a good 
deal, and altogether it did not seem much 
like school. Twelve o’clock came in a 
very little while, and Miss Owens touched 
her bell. 

a A good many of you, I shall not see 
for a long time,” she said, “ as I am going 
early to-morrow morning, so children, we 
will all say good-by now.” 

Spencer had been saying over quite a 
little speech to himself, and stepped for- 
ward now, but somehow or other it all 
went from him as he saw tears in Miss 
Owens’ eyes, and he only laid the little 
box and the note on the desk and went 
back without even thinking of that won- 
derful bow. 


238 


GRANDPA S HOUSE. 


Miss Owens opened the envelope and 
looked at the queer straggly list of names, 
and then took up the little box and un- 
tied the string. There was quite a stir in 
the school-room, and Katy laughed aloud 
when the pretty knife was lifted. 

“ I had no thought you were doing any 
thing like this,” said Miss Owens, at last, 
with a little flush coming to her cheeks. 
“ If I only knew how, I should make you 
a little speech ; but I don’t, and so I shall 
only tell you that I love you all, and say 
thank you, dear children ” 

Miss Owens held out her hand to Hiram 
who stood nearest, and kissed him, and 
then all the children crowded about her, 
and though each one had been saying to 
themselves how glad they were vacation 
had come, not one but had tears in their 
eyes as they said good-by. 

Miss Owens staid behind to collect her 
books and lock the door, and as the chil- 
dren flocked out, she stood on the old door 
stone and watched them far down the road. 
Katy and Rob, Fanny and Johnny and 
Spencer, and all the little people you have 


grandpa’s house. 239 

learned to know, till the turn hid them, 
and they were out of sight. 

So here we leave them. Are you sorry, 
little ones ? Some day, maybe, you shall 
hear more of them all, and till then — 
Good-bv. 








































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